WANTING NARCISSA
by Amandah Leigh
Summary: Frustrated by 20 yrs of infidelity from her beloved husband, Narcissa Malfoy offers Severus Snape a mutually beneficial arrangement: her body in exchange for his companionship. But what happens when she begins to develop more than lust for the emotionally-unavailable Potions Master? Could falling for him be dangerous? Narcissa/Snape, Narcissa/Lucius, Bellatrix/Voldemort, COMPLETE
1. Easter, 1996

**WANTING NARCISSA  
An Augury Origin Spin-off**

 **Detailed Description:** Frustrated by 20 years of infidelity from her beloved husband, Lucius, Narcissa Malfoy offers Severus Snape a mutually beneficial arrangement: her body for his companionship. But what happens when she begins to develop more than lust for the emotionally distant Potions Master? Could falling for him be dangerous? Spanning the time between Easter 1996 and Christmas 1998, this is the story of an affair of convenience that becomes anything but convenient, as conflicting emotions from both parties threaten to destabilize what each has worked their entire adult lifetimes to build.

Narcissa/Lucius, Narcissa/Snape, Bellatrix/Voldemort  
Rated M for Mature Readers.  
Includes some Cursed Child back-story.  
Deathly Hallows compliant.  
Note that Lucius Malfoy has been aged by 2 years.

 **A/N:** This fic exists in the same universe as my "...THE DARK LORD... Augury Origin Tales " but you definitely do NOT need to read those to read this (those are more Bellatrix/Voldemort and Bellatrix/Snape than this one, and LOYAL TO THE DARK LORD is also considerably darker and more violent).

* * *

 **Chapter One – Easter, 1996**

Draco Malfoy, a fifth year student at Hogwarts, prefect, and member of Dolores Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, did not wish to come home for Easter.

This was a decision that left his mother feeling rather unceremoniously abandoned, a disappointment compounded by the sneaking suspicion that her husband, whom she loved dearly, was again involved in an illicit affair with one of the Dark Lord's female followers (which? She couldn't rightly say, though there were only so many from which to choose). It wasn't the first time he'd stepped out on her, but that didn't make it hurt any less... and yet this perceived rejection from her only son hurt far worse.

Which is why, the day before Easter, Narcissa Malfoy found herself both bored and in a bad mood, alone, abandoned, and, frankly, annoyed by the carelessness of the two men in her life, especially as they were more or less the only two people in her life. Her parents were dead, her eldest sister was in hiding after escaping her life sentence in Azkaban, her other older sister was long estranged from the Black family, the Dark Lord didn't exactly make for pleasant company, and she had never been terribly adept at striking up friendships with other women.

She was passing the solitary time doing what she wasn't permitted to, strictly speaking: cooking in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor. Though she had lived in the sprawling, antiquated mansion for nearly 25 years, over half of her life, there were moments when it felt like it couldn't be further from home, namely due to the fact that certain rooms, including the kitchen, remained practically off-limits to her by the order of her husband. Lucius, who considered both himself and his bride to be of exceptionally good breeding, saw cooking as a job for servants, not an appropriate pastime for his wife. When they ate, they did so in the formal dining room, served by house elves. Always. Whether they were having a dozen guests or if it were just the two of them (with Draco off at school) it didn't matter. The kitchen was a subordinate's place for preparing food, not a Malfoy's place to consume it.

But secretly, Narcissa _liked_ cooking. Cooking was a bit like potions-making, one of the few classes in which she'd excelled at Hogwarts. Cooking was like brewing – what with the weighing and measuring and testing and experimentation and the lingering possibility one wrong move could ruin the entire thing – but unlike most potions (those that were actually fun to brew, anyway) cooking had a practical application as well. When she was done, she could eat whatever she made.

Today, what she was trying to make was a cherry pie.

Technically this was baking, not cooking, but she wasn't going to fuss over the particulars. As she worked to form the lattice crust, she hummed to herself. Two hours ago, she'd felt positively sour, but upon realizing having the house to herself meant she could make use of the can of cherries she'd purchased in Muggle London without anyone to stand around and judge (or ask what she'd been doing shopping for cherries in Muggle London), she was cheering significantly.

Unfortunately, the feeling didn't last. She over-baked the pie, which burnt around the edges, and fell apart into a cherry liquid mess when she attempted to cut into it. Cursing, she Vanished it with her wand, now even more glad to be home alone, thus spared the shame of being caught not only cooking, but failing, and yet even more resentful about being left home alone (because who doesn't come home to visit his own mother over Easter?).

Two hours later it was nearly dinnertime and Lucius was still out. _Doing what?_ She wondered. Or, she thought bitterly, _doing whom?_

Narcissa settled in the study, holding but not reading a book, and set to playing her favorite little mind game – "Who could my husband be fucking this time?"

As usual, she mentally ran down the list of women in their social circle, though with the Dark Lord back it was just as likely to be a woman within His circle instead.

First, her sister, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. She always considered the possibility of Bellatrix first.

Before her stint in Azkaban, beautiful Bella had a bit of a reputation for promiscuity, but Narcissa always suspected that the bulk of her conquests came about not out of a desire to sleep around on her husband, but at the request of the Dark Lord, who seemed to look upon her as his favorite female puppet. Before Azkaban, Narcissa worried regularly about her sister stealing Lucius away, even though it was unlikely that she wanted him. It was no secret that Bellatrix Lestrange loathed Lucius Malfoy, always had, but even more so after he escaped imprisonment upon the Dark Lord's fall. On the other hand… Lucius had, on more than one occasion, made it clear to Narcissa that he found her sister attractive, desirable, worthy of his time…

Ultimately, though, Narcissa always ended up crossing Bella off the list. If you can't trust your own sister, she figured, you couldn't trust anyone.

Next she thought about Hortensia Higgins.

Hortensia Higgins was one of the few women who could call herself a Marked Death Eater, which Narcissa suspected appealed to Lucius on a carnal level - to conquer a woman viewed to be as strong as his wife was weak would be entertaining for him. That was exactly that challenge that made Bellatrix appeal to him, but unlike Bella, Hortensia was more likely to be attainable.

As an aside, Narcissa herself had never taken the Dark Mark. Never wanted it. Oh, certainly she believed in blood purity and would agree with any steps to be taken to keep Muggles and Mudbloods from poisoning good Wizarding families, but to actually pledge her allegiance and with it, her life, to a cause that could quite easily get her killed? Or require her to become a killer? As much as she supported the ideals of her husband and was keen to raise her son to believe the same, she knew she couldn't stomach being in the thick of a battle, not if there was a chance the dueling could end in death for either party.

Hortensia could, though. Hortensia had been proud to take the Dark Mark. Honored. She told everyone so. There were rumors, though (which Lucius shared with his wife shamelessly delightedly) that in order for young Hortensia to have taken the Mark, she'd had to give herself to Him… and to Bellatrix. Despite Lucius' willingness to believe this, Narcissa was sure it couldn't be true. Bella's morals in that area were a bit more lax than those of either of the other Black sisters, but there was no way she'd take women to bed, not even if the Dark Lord ordered it. Of this Narcissa was confident. Well... reasonably confident.

"You're getting distracted," Narcissa scolded herself. She adjusted her position in the armchair so that she was curled up more comfortably, running her fingers absentmindedly over the raise impressions on the leather bound book cover.

Back to Hortensia. Hortensia had taken the Dark Mark at seventeen, not long after dropping out of Hogwarts in early 1981, making her approximately… thirty-two now. Old enough to have lost that edge of immaturity the Dark Lord once said He despised about her, but young enough that she would probably still interest Lucius. Lucius liked young, the younger the better. He always had. Unlike Bella and so many of their friends, Hortensia never saw the inside of Azkaban's terrifying walls. She claimed she was too young and too brainwashed to know what she was doing, thus it was widely accepted that she, like many others, had been acting under the effects of the Imperius Curse and was therefore not culpable in the many heinous crimes she'd committed.

Narcissa considered others too, as possible current _mattresses_ for her philandering husband. Marked Death Eaters Euphemia Rowle, Alecto Carrow, and Hazel Whitecrest were quickly dismissed as too obnoxious, too ugly, and too old. This left their other friends (or, technically speaking, the wives of Lucius' friends). After over a decade of trying, Crabbe's wife was finally expecting Baby 2, so she was out. Dolohov's wife was post-menopausal, so she was out too. Nott's wife was dead, so clearly it couldn't be her. Rodolphus' wife was Bellatrix, already covered. Snape, Travers, and her brother-in-law Rabastan did not have wives. Both Goyle's and Macnair's wives were too under-the-thumbs of their abusive husbands to risk affairs, Avery's wife was at least a hundred pounds overweight, Flint's wife was naught but skin over bones, and Narcissa couldn't imagine anyone ever wanting to spend the night with Mrs. Bulstrode, thus Narcissa's mind wandered to the Ministry, where her husband spent so much of his time, making sure – as her mother always had – to do and say all the right things in order to influence the right people.

Narcissa didn't know much about the Ministry except that Victor Yaxley worked there. His wife Armithia was decent looking enough, she supposed, but since her husband's last prolonged affair had been with Armithia's sister, Endora Selwyn, who committed suicide after he'd ended it, Narcissa assumed that this pairing was unlikely.

Someone new, perhaps?

Someone young?

Very young?

Fresh out of Hogwarts? A new recruit?

Fuck.

It was driving her crazy.

It had been driving her crazy all day. All week. All month. For six months.

No.

It had been driving her crazy since she found out about him and Endora Selwyn back when Draco, now nearly sixteen, was still in nappies.

Narcissa's eyes brimmed with hot tears. She didn't deserve this. She was the proper sort of wife. Elegant, attractive, available, of a higher class than most, pure-blood, from a good family. She doted on her son, was dedicated to her husband, and generally devoted her life to being the trophy wife her mother raised her to be. And what did she have to show for it?

Feeling fed up and perhaps a little irrational, Narcissa summoned one of the house elves (they had two who hadn't managed to get themselves freed by that damned Harry Potter, plus one they'd acquired more recently),. She told the elf she would be out for the evening and to inform Lucius of this should he return before her, then she grabbed her traveling cloak and stormed out of Malfoy Manor with the intention of staying away until she could return in a better mood.

Thanks to Apparition, she soon found herself in Hogsmeade. She did a little window shopping but bought nothing because even retail therapy wouldn't help at the moment, considered stopping at the pub for a glass of red wine (though she knew she shouldn't be drinking alone in public – people would talk) and finally decided there was only one place she wanted to be: Hogwarts. With her son.

Knowing full well that he would likely be mortified to have his Mum turn up over Easter break, she wrapped her traveling cloak more tightly around her and whisked off toward the castle, following the familiar path students had taken to get to and from the village since the Four Founders decided to open a school of magic there.

When she arrived, she found no challenge in entering but fifteen steps into the hall, she began to lose her nerve. Draco would not be happy to see her, of that she was certain, and Lucius would not be happy that she left the house. Of that she was equally certain.

What had she been thinking? It was stupid, coming here.

Angry tears again stinging at the corners of her eyes, she turned on her heel to go, only to find herself staring into the dark eyes of Severus Snape, Potions Master, godfather to her son.

"Narcissa?" He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "To what do we owe the pleasure? Nothing wrong at home, I hope."

"I wish to see my son," she said, straightening up, trying to appear dignified. Figuring since she'd been caught she might as well make the attempt to visit him, she explained, "He did not choose to return home for the Easter holiday even though I expressly asked him to in my last letter and I… and I…" Here, her cool demeanor gave way to a flicker of true feelings, but only for a moment. She finished softly, "I miss him."

Snape's expression didn't soften exactly, but he did lower his eyebrow and offer in a calming voice. "Why don't we speak in my office rather than here in the hall?"

"Very well."

She followed him down to the dungeons where, as a student, she had regularly shown off her potions making skills to impress then-Professor Slughorn in an effort to elevate herself to favorite member of the Slug Club. A disappointment to him, now, she figured. Slughorn liked wizards and witches who achieved greatness after Hogwarts, and what had she done?

Dropped out early to get married.

Narcissa and Snape did not speak as they walked. There was no need.

Once they were safely closed inside his office, Severus dropped his unfriendly, strictly professional manner, choosing instead to address her with the familiarity of a man who'd been like family for over fifteen years.

"I can't believe you're here, Narcissa. What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with everyone else?! Lucius is off doing… whatever he does. Whomever he does. Draco ignored the request in my letter, choosing to remain here to lord over younger children as prefect and loaf around with that Parkinson girl I don't like. My semi-psychotic sister uses my home as if it's the train station, always coming and going, but never invited or with warning, even thought she knows if she's caught it will be dangerous for us, the Dark Lord slept at Malfoy Manor three nights last week, which always makes me nervous, and… and… and…"

"And?"

"And I've had to start coloring my hair because the roots are all gray."

Snape regarded her for a long moment, unsure of what to say, before he burst out laughing.

"I don't find it funny!" She snapped, wiping away tears.

"It's a little funny," said Snape, handing her a handkerchief. "Of all that's bothering you, going gray puts it over the edge?"

She wiped her eyes, giggled sheepishly, and nodded. "I suppose you didn't need to know that about my hair."

"Narcissa," he said gently, motioning for her to sit in one of the two winged back leather chairs on either side of his desk. She removed her traveling cloak and sat across from him, crossing her ankles. He sat too, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're here to see Draco because he chose not to return home for Easter, is that right?"

"Yes. And you have to understand, Severus. He's my only little boy…"

Snape held up a hand. "He's fifteen, Narcissa. Nearly sixteen. For how long are you planning to baby him? To smother him?"

"I do not smother him!"

"I haven't had a single other Slytherin mother come to me in all these fourteen years because she was distressed over her nearly grown son's decision to stay home over a short holiday. If that's not smothering, what is it? And if that's not why you're here… why are you here?"

A nagging thought wriggled about in Narcissa's brain, begging for attention, even though she'd been repressing it for months. She was tired. Frustrated. Unhappy. And for months she'd been giving consideration to a variety of possibilities that could change her state of malaise. Suppose her subconscious had settled on one… and it had led her here? Suppose her trip all this way wasn't about Draco at all? Suppose it was an act of her subconscious, propelling her toward a possibility she'd been mulling over in the back of her mind for some time? Could she...? Should she...?

"Narcissa?" said Snape, leaning forward. "Are you alright?"

"No," she said simply. "No, not really. As I said, I… You're friends with Lucius, aren't you, Severus?"

Snape nodded. "Of course."

"So you know… you're aware of the fact that he's having an affair." This was a statement, but Snape chose not to take it as one.

"You're asking me whether he's having an affair?"

She sighed and began to twirl a long blonde strand of hair around her right forefinger, a childhood habit she and Andromeda shared. One that Mother always hated.

"I _know_ he's having an affair. Do you know…?"

"If you want confirmation or a name, I'm afraid you shall have to ask Lucius." Snape stood, prepared to guide her toward the door. Briefly comforting an overbearing mother was one thing, but discussing his friend's sex life (and partners) with said friend's wife was quite another.

"Please!" She stood too, stepping closer to him, ever-so-lightly pressing her palm to his chest to halt his movement. "I'm lonely, Severus. Please, just listen."

He did not sit back down but did not move toward the door either. "I'm listening."

"I love Lucius but I can no longer pretend... Lucius... he... he doesn't find me attractive anymore, Severus. He's told me as much in a million little ways. He doesn't like that my hair is going gray. He doesn't like that I color it the Muggle way to keep the gray from showing. But he doesn't want me changing it our way either, since the charms wear off and are hard to maintain. He simply doesn't want me to go gray and there's nothing I can do about that. I'm stressed. Stress causes grey. It also causes weight loss, apparently. He says he wants me to gain weight, but I can't. He says I've gotten too thin. He says I look sickly and shapeless, but I can't, Severus. I can't gain weight."

Snape was tempted to mention that he'd known her in the years after Draco was born and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could, indeed, gain and maintain weight, but thought this was not the best time to point that out.

"I have no friends, not a single one, and no one to talk to…"

"What about Bellatrix?" he interjected. "Surely you must be happy to have your beloved sister returned to you?"

"She's not the same as she was before Azkaban. And I never know when she's going to turn up. Her temper is… well, to be honest, I'm a little afraid of her. She's gone a bit mental."

"She's always been a bit mental. I doubt you're alone in fearing her."

"Severus…" Narcissa glanced up at him, chin down, which gave her sort of a pitiable look. "Lucius is the only man I've ever been with."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Snape in his usual bored tone, as if she's just informed him that it's not raining on a day expected to be sunny.

The idea that had been taking form in her mind for weeks seemed both insane and completely practical, but she'd come this far... She just wasn't sure how to broach it. Come right out and express herself, or skirt around and see if he picks up?

"I'm tired, Severus. I'm tired of sitting at home, alone, while he's off gallivanting with our friends' wives and young girls and those women who are clearly seeking advancement in the Dark Lord's ranks. Do you know how long it's been since he last touched me?"

"Er… no." Though he didn't back away from her, Snape now looked decidedly uncomfortable, especially as her palm moved from the center of his chest to the front of his shoulder, mirrored by the other hand. She squeezed his shoulders.

"Nearly six months. Six months!" Her gray eyes widened as if in disbelief of her own statement. "We've passed Christmas, New Years, our 23rd anniversary, Valentine's Day, my birthday, and in all that time, nothing!"

Snape tried not to notice the way her breasts heaved as she pouted over this, but without her traveling cloak to cover her, he was all-too-aware of the ample amount of skin she'd chosen to expose on her chest and shoulders. He averted his gaze, but that didn't stop him from being able to feel the heat from her palms, which she slid up even more so that they were now resting on the backs of his shoulders.

"I'm not looking for love, Severus," she said, pressing closer to him. "I simply want… I want to be wanted."

This was the notion she'd been toying with but in all the scenarios she'd played out in her head it went quite differently. For starters, in none of them was she standing in the middle of Snape's office in the dungeons at Hogwarts. Most importantly, in her head, none of her attempts ended in rejection, whereas real life very well might.

"Why are you telling me this?" he repeated, but his tone was not as cool or distant as it had been moments ago.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Narcissa decided upon the blurt-it-out approach, though she did take a decisive step back before doing so, moving her hands to her hips.

"Severus," she began matter-of-factly. "I want to have an affair. I want to have what Lucius has. It isn't fair. I've been faithful to him since we started seeing each other when we were kids. I was thirteen when he first asked me out. Thirteen! A little girl! And in all that time, I've never once been with another man or even fantasized about being with another man. I've never become emotionally invested in another woman's husband, thus setting myself up for idiotic heartbreak…" That was a jab at Endora Selwyn, the dead ex-mistress. "Nor have I ever sought the company of a single man since he and I agreed upon exclusivity, when I was a student. Or before, even. He's it. And I've tried. I've tried so hard to do whatever I've needed to do, whatever... exactly what my mother raised me to be. I've been the perfect wife, Severus, but he hasn't been the perfect husband, and that is no longer acceptable."

"Why aren't you telling him this? Tell him it's unacceptable. Tell him you won't allow yourself to be cheated on anymore."

"No." She turned away from Snape, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "No, we're past that. I've asked before. Begged, pleaded, cajoled. I've cried, shouted, threatened. He does not care. So I figure, it's my turn. It's only fair. I want… I want the same. I want a physical thing, not an emotional one. I want… damn it, like I said, I want to be wanted! I'm still good-looking, am I not? I could still... I could be of use. I could... Do you... Severus, do you think... theoretically speaking, of course... but... but I'm pretty, right? Don't you think someone could want me? Do you think _you_ could want me?"

"Narcissa…" Snape said slowly, weighing his options. On the one hand, this was his friend's wife, mother of his godson, sister of his most recent sexual partner (if the other bottom of one fury-driven half-dressed quickie could even be considered a 'partner'). This was not a woman he should be considering taking to bed. But on the other… that encounter with her sister had occurred three months prior, and since then there hadn't exactly been a slew of women throwing themselves at him, plus the past had taught him that those who did typically had ulterior motives, especially when the Dark Lord reigned before, and it was likely to continue in the vein now that the Dark Lord was set to truly rise again. No, just as it was during the First War, the women looking to be with Snape would be picturing him as a wrung on a ladder, a necessary step. Nothing more.

Not that he was looking for love or romance or any of that rubbish. No, he'd found love, long ago, and had no desire to sully it with an impossible attempt to achieve it with another. So perhaps this was exactly what he needed. A no-strings-attached affair with an attractive woman he knew well and could trust not to tell a soul.

"Severus?" Narcissa turned to face him, again doing that tilted-chin, raised-eyes thing, looking more defeated – and somehow, more beautiful – than he'd ever see her. "It's pathetic. _I'm_ pathetic. I'm 41 years old. My hair is going gray. My husband is cheating on me yet again. My son doesn't need me or want me around. I have no friends, no career, no sisters I can currently confide in. I can't even bake a cherry pie."

If he wondered why she threw that last part in, he didn't let on.

"I'm literally throwing myself at you knowing it's possible I'll end up absolutely humiliated as a result. Please, just consider it. After all, I'm not asking for much and what I'm offering in return is worth your time. I need someone to talk to me, to help me feel less lonely, someone to desire me and fulfill me…" As she spoke, she moved closer, closer, until their chests were almost touching. She slipped her arms up around his neck, now leaving only about an inch between them. "Severus, I'm 41 years old and I've never even been kissed by anyone other than him."

Snape closed the gap, pressing his body flush against hers, simultaneously sliding his hands over her hips and around her small waist, stopping at her lower back.

"You've never even kissed another man?" he asked. Upon her nod, he added, "Well. That certainly _is_ pathetic."

Then, despite his better judgment, he pressed his lips to hers.


	2. Early May, 1996

**Chapter Two – Early May, 1996**

It had been nearly a month since her encounter with Snape that began in his dungeon office and progressed to his adjoining sitting room and finally ended up in his bed and in that time, she had seen him alone exactly once, for about fifteen seconds, when he came to Malfoy Manor to receive a message from Lucius as per the demand of the Dark Lord. They'd barely been able to look at each other when her husband was in the room, but when Lucius stepped out to inquire about a crash in the hall (a house elf dropped a vase) she flew to him. He kissed her for as long as he dared, then, as suddenly as they came together, they parted, both glancing furtively toward the parlor door.

"I need to see you again," she hissed.

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend at the end of the month," he murmured, still keeping his eye trained on the door. "It is difficult to get away from Hogwarts at present, what with Umbridge keeping her thumb on all of us, but I will go to the village when the students do under the guise of chaperoning and from there apparate to my home at Spinner's End. We should be able to manage a few uninterrupted hours there. You remember where it is?"

She had been there only once, with Lucius, during the First War, when the couple (infant Draco in tow) surprised Snape by stopping in over the summer asking him to be the boy's godfather.

"I remember," she whispered. She leaned forward, tempted to try to kiss him again, but the parlor door swung open and in walked Lucius, so she pretended to be brushing a bit of dust off his robes.

"Damned house elves. Dobby, that little traitor, was our best one," snapped Lucius, pushing his long white-blond hair back away from his eyes. "I can't believe we once hoped that dreadful Boy-Who-Lived would grow up to be an even more powerful dark wizard than the world had ever known."

"I'm glad he and Draco didn't get on," said Narcissa. "Did our son ever tell you, Severus, that he extended his hand to the boy on the Hogwarts Express first year? He, like the rest of us, was hoping for… better. But the boy had already formed an unfortunate alliance with that Weasley boy."

"Weasley and the Mudblood girl," said Lucius, settling into one of several straight-backed armchairs, opposite the one in which Narcissa had curled up to make her mental outline of her husband's potential mistresses. She settled into that one now, as Snape made himself comfortable across from them on the couch. Neither Lucius nor Narcissa noticed the way Snape's jaw clenched at the word 'Mudblood.'

"Yes," Snape said. "Potter has proven to be quite the disappointment in an abundance of ways. To your question, though, Narcissa, no, I was not aware of that."

"I encouraged Draco to try and make friends," said Lucius. "At the time, we thought such an alliance might be beneficial to us all. But it turns out he's as much a useless blood-traitor as his father."

"And twice as arrogant," sneered Snape. "If such a thing is possible."

The conversation soon turned toward the future, with Lucius expressing concern over when and how the Dark Lord would officially make himself known, since his return in Little Hangleton hadn't gone according to plan.

"Bella says the Dark Lord is waiting for the right moment," said Narcissa, glad to be the one 'in the know' for a change. "She says He is seeking access to something that will help him to make His powers greater than even Dumbledore could imagine. She says He hasn't trusted anyone else with the information He's shared with her, but she also wouldn't tell me any more than that because she says I can't be trusted, which is completely ridiculous."

"You should be careful," Snape said, his dark eyes meeting her gray ones from across the room, which gave her an involuntary shiver she hoped her husband didn't notice. "Not only is it unwise for your sister to share the details of the Dark Lord's plans with you, it could be dangerous for you to share with others. Unlike Bellatrix, you do not possess the power of Occlumency, nor have you decades of experience in being tortured and throwing off the Unforgivable Curses, which would make you an ideal target should the other side wish to torture you for information."

"I've only said anything at all to the two of you," said Narcissa, her face going pink over being admonished. "Besides, who would care enough to torture me? And how could they even get a hold of me? I hardly ever leave the house these days."

"She's always sneaking into the kitchen," said Lucius, a look of pure disgust on his face. "She _cooks_. Like a house elf, or a Muggle… or a Weasley. It's damn embarrassing."

Now Narcissa's pale cheeks went even redder.

"I _enjoy_ cooking the Muggle way, to be perfectly honest," said Snape.

Narcissa's eyes rose again to meet his. She wondered if he could read her "thank you" without delving into her mind by way of Legillimency.

"It's therapeutic and oddly satisfying. A bit like brewing potions," Snape continued.

"That's precisely it!" Narcissa shifted her gaze to Lucius. "That's precisely what I enjoy about it. I enjoyed Potions at Hogwarts and cooking has the same effect."

"You only enjoyed Potions because Slughorn gave you good marks and invited you to join his little club," said Lucius dismissively. "He gave you good marks because you were capable enough not to blow up your cauldron and he wanted you in his club because you were pretty."

Narcissa wasn't sure which part of his statement stung most. The notion that she only enjoyed Potions because it enhanced her status, the insinuation that she hadn't actually deserved the good marks she received, or the past tense "were" that preceded "pretty."

"You're still pretty," said Snape, standing, extending his hand to Lucius, not looking at her. "You mustn't neglect to make your wife feel special, Lucius, else she'll seek affection elsewhere."

Lucius laughed, also rising and moving to shake Snape's hand. "Narcissa? Please." He spoke of her as if she were not in the room. "She would never. She's only ever been interested in me and besides, no one we know would dare to try to lead her astray – or, for the matter, even want her." He laughed again, shaking his head, as if the idea was absurd, which, to him, it was. After all, everyone in the Wizarding World _knew_ she was his and his alone. "But thanks for the advice, mate."

Snape returned his friend's smile. "You're welcome. I'll see you soon?" His eyes darted to Narcissa, seated behind Lucius, when he asked this. She nodded, mouthing "Soon." He tried to hide an involuntary smile. She didn't bother to mask hers.

"Soon enough, I'm sure," said Lucius, missing this entire exchange. "I will tell the Dark Lord I delivered His message."

"Thank you. I can see myself out."

That was a week ago. In another week, she would be making her way to Spinner's End. She had already begun brewing the birth control potion she'd been secretly making since the week she lost her virginity to Lucius while still at Hogwarts. There, she'd had to brew it in secret, hidden away in a tiny room that only appeared when she paced the corridor and begged it to. Now she brewed it just as secretly, but in the far corner of their attic where even house elves never ventured.

It was morning. Lucius had gotten home long after midnight and she knew from the smell of the perfume that entered the room when he did that he'd been with a woman. The scent did not help her in discerning the identity of his mystery mistress, though, as it was unfamiliar to Narcissa. Now he was in the shower, she could hear the water running, and she was mentally replaying her first physical encounter with Severus Snape.

 _"_ _You've never even kissed another man?" he asked, adding, "That certainly_ is _pathetic."_

 _Then, despite his better judgment, he pressed his lips to hers, without apprehension but not quite passionately. It had been she who'd lightly touched her tongue to his bottom lip, prompting him to grant her tongue entrance into his mouth, causing their mutual excitement to build. Rapidly._

 _He was a better kisser than she would have expected. She had no idea what sort of prior experience he had and she had little to compare him to, but it was evident he was good. As his teeth scraped ever-so-slightly over her bottom lip before his mouth captured hers again, she felt herself melting and clung tighter to him to avoid being taken down by her own weak knees. When Lucius kissed her, he was typically rough and erratic, which she liked, as it gave the impression he was so desperate for her he couldn't remain in control, but there was something refreshing and appealing about Snape's more sensual style, and the way his hand on her cheek moved tenderly to guide her. Her breath hitched in her throat. Having an affair was easier than she's thought it would be. She'd worried Lucius was right, that no one else would want her, and also that she wouldn't be able to find herself attracted to another, but neither seemed to be true._

 _"_ _Not here," Snape murmured when they finally parted in need of air._

 _"_ _Where do you live?" she asked. "I mean, your bedroom, or…"_

 _"_ _My sitting room is through here." He led her toward_ _a door to the far right, between two tall oak bookcases full of dusty old manuscripts. "And on the other side, my chambers."_

 _"_ _Lovely," she said. "Let's go there." Unable to restrain herself she began kissing him again, and they moved that way, attached, sideways like a crab, crashing through the door to the sitting room._

 _They would've moved all the way to the bedroom this way, but her heel caught on the carpet and she stumbled. He tried to stop her from falling but ended up losing his own balance, and they collapsed onto the only thing near enough to break their fall: the couch._

 _"_ _Damn it," said Snape, but he didn't sound upset. Narcissa was on top of him, still kissing him, longing for more. It had been so long. Too long._

In her bed at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa found herself completely immersed in this memory and decided she wanted to enjoy it, especially as her husband was otherwise occupied. She flung her left arm up over her eyes, blocking out the sunlight streaming through the curtains, while her right hand made its way down her side, over her hip, across her upper thigh…

 _"_ _Are you certain you want to do this?" Snape asked, holding her up away from him by her upper arms, though her lower body was still flush toward his (as a result, she was aware that he seemed certain, at least physically). "Nothing emotional. I offer you a listening ear and a little passion, and in exchange…"_

 _"_ _I offer you everything," she said, brushing against his groin with her thigh._

 _"_ _Physically," he said, needing confirmation. "Everything you offer me is physical. No emotions. No romance. No attachment."_

 _"_ _It's an affair, not a relationship," she assured him, continuing to move her thigh over the evidence of his building excitement._

 _In response, he pulled her down to him, kissing her again. She re-positioned so that her legs were on either side of his. He strained uncomfortably against her, wanting more. Needing more._

So lost in the memory she didn't notice that the sounds of the shower had ceased, Narcissa moved her fingers closer to her center, as the want and need she'd felt that day were building in real time, leaving her desperate for the build and release Lucius had been neglecting to provide all these months.

 _Snape sat up, bringing Narcissa up with him. He slid out from under her, stood, and looped one arm behind her knees, the other behind her back, and lifted._

 _"_ _You're going to carry me to bed?"_

 _"_ _Do you want me to?"_

 _"_ _Absolutely." She kissed his neck and closed her eyes. Ready._

Upon feeling a hand on top of hers, Narcissa jumped. She opened her eyes, moving the arm she'd flung over them. It was Lucius, of course.

"My poor Narcissa," he sighed, his fingers moving deftly over hers. "Have I been neglecting you?"

She was, in this moment, more thankful than she'd ever been that her husband, though semi-proficient in Occlumency, had never even attempted to master Legillimency. She could only imagine his reaction to the thoughts she'd been having.

"Narcissa?"

"Yes," she whispered, having paused a moment too long. "I've missed you."

"Allow me to make it up to you." He kissed her shoulder and moved her right hand out of his way.

A month ago this would have thrilled her. She might have even reacted to it by asking him to stop having his latest 'thing,' or, at the very least, pull back a bit and remember that he had a wife at home too. But though she had only been with Snape once thus far, she was too consumed in the anticipation of her next meeting with him to remain in-the-moment. Though she enjoyed the way he moved his fingers inside her and the way he sucked on her neck and the way he took her breast in his other hand, she could barely concentrate on the words of love and desire being heaped on her by her husband. None of them enough to make up for two decades of cheating.

"You're perfect," he murmured as he entered her. "You're perfect and you're mine."

"Yes," she whispered, digging her nails into his shoulder, moving with him, torn between her genuine feelings of love for and loyalty to him and guilt over having cheated and – worse – planning to do it again.

When he finished (and she hadn't) he rolled off of her, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and removed himself from the bed. He headed back to the shower. She rolled her eyes. It had been over six months since they were last together. He could have made more of an effort to please her rather than selfishly engaging in lovemaking solely for his own gratification. But that's marriage, she supposed. The husband has needs and the wife satisfies them.

That's what Mother taught her.

That's just the way life was meant to be.


	3. Late May, 1996

**Chapter Three – Late May, 1996**

"Lucius?"

It was the morning of Hogwarts' students' Hogsmeade visit and in a few hours Narcissa would be slipping out of the house to meet Snape at Spinner's End, an encounter that would officially transform their one-time tryst to an actual affair, and she was having second thoughts.

"Yes?" He adjusted the cuffs of his robe, checking his appearance in the mirror hanging above the largest of their several dressers. Narcissa sat cross-legged on the bed in her soft, pink nightgown, watching him. It was sort of an odd color on her, but one she liked. He was dressed in gray and black, which contrasted attractively with the white-blonde of his hair.

"I want you to stop seeing her."

He stopped fussing over his collar and turned slowly to face his wife.

"Excuse me?"

"Whomever she is. Lucius, I want you to stop. And I want to know why."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, turning back to the mirror.

"Yes, you do." She twirled her hair around her finger, ignoring the worry building in the pit of her stomach. She had made many related requests to him in the past, about being home more, about not getting another woman pregnant, about making sure to keep others from finding out, she'd even asked him before to stop, but never had she asked why.

"Why what?"

"Why you're having an affair."

"Oh, Narcissa." He shook his head, regarding her the way one would a simple minded child. "You wouldn't understand."

"I'm having one too, then," she said, changing positions so that she was kneeling on the edge of the bed. She smoothed out the bottom of her nightgown, avoiding eye contact. "If you won't stop seeing her, I'll go out this afternoon and have my own affair. Don't think I won't."

He laughed. "I know you won't."

"I will."

"You won't." He made his way to the bed and kissed her on the forehead. "My dear wife, talking crazy. I think the stress of the Dark Lord's return is getting to you."

She steeled herself, unwilling to admit he was, at least, right about that. "I don't think it's crazy for a wife to ask her husband to remain faithful to her. Where are you going today? With whom? To do what?"

"It's not your place to meddle in my affairs," he said. "But if you must know, I am meeting Yaxley to discuss a little issue we are having at the Ministry. The Dark Lord has a task He needs completed and it has been impossible thus far thanks to the efforts of the Order of the Phoenix. As for the identity of the woman…"

She leaned forward, stomach fluttering wildly, desperate for a name.

"She's none of your business."

"That settles it then," she said, flopping onto her back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, defeated. "I'm going to have an affair. When I'm out shopping today I'll meet a man and apparate to his home. I'll tell him he can do to me what he wishes…"

Lucius climbed onto the bed, grabbed his wife by the upper arms, and yanked her into an upright position so they were facing each other. "You will do no such thing, Narcissa."

"Why not? Why is it alright for you but not for me?"

"You are my wife!" He shoved her away from him. She was again on her back staring at the ceiling. She made no attempt to get up.

"And you are my husband."

"I am the man," said Lucius. "My place and yours are not the same."

"We're not equal?"

"We are not." He returned to the mirror to give himself a final once-over.

"I love you, Lucius."

He paused, staring at his reflection, torn between feelings of annoyance and pity. "Darling Narcissa…" He returned to the bed, knelt beside her, leaned down, and kissed her lightly on the lips. "You are the only woman I've ever cared about. You know that. Anyone else… you want to know why? It is because I love you. I respect you. And there are things I want to do… things I need to do… that I simply cannot do with a woman I love and respect. Do you understand?"

She looked into his eyes both surprised and saddened to see the sincerity there.

"I understand."

"I do regret that you've been feeling neglected," he said. He kissed her again. "I shall make it up to you soon, alright? In the interim, go shopping. Here." He removed several galleons from his pocket and placed them in her hand. "Buy yourself something pretty. That will make you happy, won't it?"

When she was a child and Stepfather hurt her, he always followed up in exactly this way. Giving her galleons. Sending her out shopping with her mother or sisters. Telling her to buy something pretty. It didn't placate her as much now as it did back then, but she took the money and nodded.

"I love you too," he said. He kissed her a third time. "I will be home late tonight. Have dinner without me."

"Yes, dear," she said, dejected.

Without another word, he left, and she was alone.

Hours later she was wandering around Diagon Alley, lost in thought. She's already bought herself something pretty – an overpriced but beautiful sterling silver brooch adorned with emeralds and rubies that she figured would look nice at Christmastime – and was killing time until she was to apparate to Spinner's End.

"Cissy?" whispered a familiar voice. "Cissy!"

Narcissa turned to see a haggard-faced elderly witch with a long nose beckoning her from outside the entrance to Gringotts. Though she had never seen the silver-haired hag before, she knew the woman's identity immediately.

"Bella?"

"Shhh! Come here."

Narcissa hurried over.

"Where've you been, Bellatrix? I've been worried."

"Hiding in plain sight, of course. What do you think of this look? It suits me, eh?" She laughed. No, cackled. Narcissa cringed.

"You look disgusting."

"Thank you. Listen, I'm glad you happened by. I need money from my vault but I can't get to it. Take me in, tell the goblins I'm our great-aunt Helga or something, and convince them to let us take out a few galleons," she hissed. "The Dark Lord and I are quickly running low on funds."

"You're in hiding with the Dark Lord?"

"Please, Cissy? I don't need much."

Narcissa checked the silver watch on her wrist. It was five minutes until she had to apparate. She did not want to be late. "Here," she said, reaching into her pocket and giving her sister the rest of the money from Lucius, plus a little extra. "Take all I have. This should tide you over, right?"

A smile spread across Bella's hideously transfigured face. "Thank you, little sissy!" She kissed Narcissa on the cheek, which made the younger Black sister cringe. "It's only a matter of time before He gets what He wishes, and then I won't be in hiding anymore. What would you say to dinner tomorrow? I'll come to Malfoy Manor."

"I'd be more than happy to see you," said Narcissa. "Especially if you look like yourself instead of…"

"I don't enjoy wearing a disguise," said Bellatrix, pushing silver hair away from her eyes. She added with a giggle, "This is what your hair would look like if you stopped coloring it."

"Sod off," said Narcissa, but she couldn't help smiling. "I have to go, but I'll see you tomorrow."

"I have to go too," said Bellatrix. "I'm lucky you were here. He's waiting for me and I was at a loss for what to do. Until tomorrow." She blew Narcissa a kiss and disapparated.

Shaking her head, Narcissa did the same.

She didn't arrive right on Snape's doorstep, of course. That would be impolite. Instead she walked at a hurried pace from her apparition point to his home, aware of the fact she was now dangerously close to being late, wondering if he would be angry if she didn't show up at the exact time he'd Owled her. He seemed like the type to value punctuality.

Finally she found herself on his doorstep. She raised her fist to knock… and froze.

What was she doing?

What was she thinking?

She couldn't do this.

She loved her husband. Lucius had his faults, but despite them, she loved him.

She was in love with him.

As much in this moment as she'd been when he married her.

As much in this moment as she'd been the first time he kissed her.

And yet…

The door opened.

"I could see you through the window," explained Snape. He gestured for Narcissa to enter.

"I am having second thoughts," she admitted.

"That's understandable," he said, shutting the door behind her and waving his wand to lock it. "As am I."

"My problem is that I love my husband," she said softly, making her way to his sitting room.

"Loving your husband does not seem like a problem," said Snape. He closed the sitting room door and opened the liquor cabinet. "Wine?"

"Red, please." She pointed to the couch. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go right ahead." He turned his back to her, trying to force out the memory of the last time he was home, back in January, when he'd fucked her sister right there on the couch on which she sat.

"Loving my husband is a problem when I take too long to think about what we've done, what we're going to do."

"So don't think about it." He handed her a glass and sat on the opposite end of the couch. Images flashed in front of his mind's eye. Pinning Bellatrix down by the wrist. Kissing her bloodied shoulder. Thrusting roughly into her…

"What are you thinking about?" asked Narcissa. Snape, adept at lying, shrugged, his face expressionless.

"Nothing important. Did you ask Lucius to cease his extracurricular activity?"

"I did. And I asked him why he does it. And I told him if he continued to see her, I'd have my own affair." She sipped her wine, wondering how Snape would react to this, but the only sign he'd heard her was a raised eyebrow.

"His response?"

"He laughed. He said he sees other women because he respects me. And then he said he wouldn't be home for dinner."

"Hm." Snape sipped his own wine. He wasn't surprised by Lucius' reasoning – he knew from listening to the man boast of his conquests over the last two decades that he did things with his 'sidepieces' that most women would find utterly degrading, things he couldn't imagine a woman like Narcissa consenting to – but he was surprised that, after all these years, this is what Lucius admitted to his wife.

"Could I have another glass?" she asked. "I'll pour it myself."

"What kind of host would I be if I made you pour it yourself?" he asked, taking her glass and his, which he downed the rest of, over to the liquor cabinet to refill.

"I'd like to get drunk and allow you to take advantage of me."

"I can't take advantage of you if you're drunk," said Snape. "I prefer the women I'm with to be willing… and cognizant."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm already willing," she clarified. "I'd just like to be a little less… inhibited."

"In that case, let's both get tipsy and take advantage of each other." He returned to the couch, handed her one glass, and clinked it with his own.

With her free hand, she twirled her hair. "I've thought about you a lot over the last month, Severus. In a good way. I've even… I've… I've fantasized about you."

He smiled. "It's mutual."

"I'm not very good at this. I don't have any experience."

"You were good," he assured her.

"I didn't mean… I meant… I didn't mean I'm no good in bed, I meant I'm no good at… _this_."

"Drinking wine?"

"No! At… at… _at this_."

"Having a conversation with an old friend whilst seated on an even older couch?" His smirk clued her in to the fact that he was teasing her. She smacked him playfully on the arm and he laughed.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she said, setting her half-full glass down on the end table. "But I'm willing to learn."

Setting his own glass down, he gently took her arm and guided her so that she was straddling him, and he kissed her. She returned the kiss, deepening it, shifting her legs into a more comfortable position as he ran his hands up her thighs, under her dress, to her hips.

"Are you tipsy enough to come upstairs with me?" he asked. "But sober enough to consent?"

"Yes and yes," she breathed, as his lips and tongue found a perfect spot on her neck, but neither made any effort to move from the couch. As their mouths explored each other from the shoulders up, she removed his shirt and he her robe and dress. Under that she wore a red slip that looked more like a negligee than a practical undergarment.

"I like this," he said, fingering the silky material. He made to remove it but she stopped him.

"I… I don't want to be naked."

"What?"

"I don't want you to see me undressed."

Snape was clearly confused. "We've had sex before, Narcissa. I've already seen you undressed."

"That was different," she insisted, running her hands over his bare chest. "It was dark in your chambers in the dungeon. We were in bed. There were blankets. You couldn't see anything."

"I saw enough."

"No… let's just… do it like this."

He frowned, placing his hands on her ass and pulling her closer to him. "Are you telling me you're so sexually repressed you won't allow me to see you naked?"

"I'm not sexually repressed!" she insisted, going pink in the face. "I simply don't enjoy being looked at by people!"

"People?" he glanced around the room, semi-amused. "It isn't as if we have an audience."

"It's just…" She took a deep breath then spoke very quickly, as if the words would fail her if they didn't make it out quickly. "I've never enjoyed being looked at when I'm not wearing anything, it makes me feel terribly exposed, vulnerable, and too afraid of what might happen next to concentrate or even think. Frankly, it terrifies me, and that's why I wore this, because it's pretty, and I can keep it on, and I hoped you might like it, and it's not as if it's necessary for you to _see_ me in order to _have_ me, so let's just keep going and not talk any more about it, okay?"

"I… no!" Snape placed his hands over hers on his chest and moved them down to her sides, still holding them. "That doesn't make sense. We can't have an affair – we can't have anything if you're going to refuse to let me undress you, ever. If I can't ever look at you."

"Maybe this is what Lucius means," she said, avoiding his eyes. "This is why he needs to be with other women? Because I'm…" she searched for the words he'd just used. "Sexually repressed?"

"I…" He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings, though clearly he had, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes over it. "I simply don't understand it. You've been married for over twenty years, haven't you?"

"Twenty-three."

"Are you like this with him, too?"

"Mostly. I mean, it's dark in our bedroom at night, which is when… I mean… it's different when it's dark. But no. I mean, yes. I don't like to let him… _look_ at me. And that's why he has affairs."

"That's not why he has affairs," said Snape, unsure of whether this would make her feel better or worse. "But it is certainly confusing. How did you lose your virginity in the first place if you wouldn't let him see you. Did you spend the first several years of your marriage wearing these?" He tugged at the silky material of her slip/negligee.

"By the time we were married we'd already been sleeping together for over three years," she said.

"How is that possible? I thought you dropped out of Hogwarts at seventeen to get married."

"I did."

Snape's eyebrows furrowed. "So you were having sex with him when you were a fourth year?"

"Yes," she said, adding defensively, "Why, is that a problem?"

"It's just so… young. I teach fourth years. They're barely capable of walking and chewing gum at the same time. Most can't brew a simple sleeping draught without near disaster."

"I was good at potions," she said, pushing a strand of his black hair behind his ear. "I could brew a birth control potion without even consulting the textbook."

Snape didn't know which of the two questions his mind had formed first, so he put them together. "You were brewing a birth control potion in your fourth year? From which textbook did you find that?"

"One I borrowed from the restricted section. Technically, Bella borrowed it then never returned it. She was looking for something else – and she was never any good at potions, too impatient – and I found it. It took me two tries to get it right, but I managed."

"That's a complicated potion with terrible side-effects if brewed incorrectly."

"I know."

"I'm impressed." Catching her surprised expression, he clarified. "I'm not impressed that you were having sex back before you were old enough to drink butterbeer, but I'm impressed that you were able to brew that particular potion."

"Fourth years are old enough to drink butterbeer," she said, semi-annoyed. "I wasn't a child."

"Your son is how old?" asked Snape. He brought one of her hands up to his lips and kissed her palm. "Nearly sixteen? At the end of his fifth year? If he were doing the same…"

"No!" This notion clearly horrified her. "He wouldn't! He's my little boy."

"He's older than you were."

"That's different," she said, even though she knew it wasn't. "Times have changed."

"So you've been having sex for over 27 years and yet you're still too shy to let me, a man with whom you have already slept, see you undressed?"

"Sex isn't the same," she said, her pink cheeks going redder. That's the problem with being pale. Embarrassment is always humiliatingly obvious. "Besides, Lucius knows that it terrifies me to be… seen… like that. He's always been very understanding of that fact, even the first time. We were together in the astronomy tower at Hogwarts. I didn't even have to take off my dress…"

Snape narrowed his eyes, wondering if sex in the astronomy tower was something his own Slytherin students were engaging in, and if so, whether there was anything he should do about that as their head of house.

"I did it because otherwise he would have dumped me," Narcissa continued softly. "He was a seventh year. I knew if I didn't do something to keep him, he'd finish school and find someone else. Not that it mattered, I suppose. He finds someone else every other year. That's why I had to get pregnant. He wasn't planning to marry me. He had his eye on Eleanor Nott, remember her? I panicked."

This didn't make sense to Snape. "But you were married for _years_ before Draco was born."

"I lost our first baby shortly after the wedding," she explained. Now she brought his hand up to her lips and kissed the back of it. "I thought he would divorce me but he didn't. I suppose since my mother had gone through all the trouble of pressuring his parents into making him marry me, he figured we might as well stay married."

Her heart hurt remembering it. How she'd bled all day, cried all day, certain she would end up shamefully alone, without having finished her education, with virtually no skills and the knowledge that no other man of his status or prestige or breeding would marry her if she were damaged goods. To her intense relief, though, Lucius had returned from his Ministry business that evening and held her and comforted her and assured her that he loved her and wouldn't leave. They finished out their honeymoon (and he didn't leave her alone again during it) and promised they would try again.

Which they did.

But it took nearly eight years for her to conceive a second time. For all those years, she wondered if she was barren or if it was him, but it wasn't something they could talk about unless it was brought up in the context of her failings. Besides, later, when they tried to give Draco a sibling, Lucius made it clear that he knew the problem couldn't lie with him, which made Narcissa think she wasn't the only woman he'd ever accidentally knocked up.

"Do you want to do this?" Snape asked gently. "Perhaps what you need is a therapist, not a lover."

"You think I'm crazy?"

"I think there must be a reason the thought of being looked at while undressed terrifies you. That was the word you used. Terrifies."

"Yes, well…" She didn't want to have this conversation. Talking about Lucius and their relationship was one thing. That was something she'd been wanting to do with someone for a long time, but since she had no one to confide him who didn't either hate him (like Bellatrix) or who might be fucking him (like their friends' wives) she had thus far been unable. The source of her discomfort in the other matter, though, was not something she ever wanted to discuss with anyone, least of all someone with whom she wanted to have an emotion-free affair. Hell, she'd barely told Lucius about it, and that was only after they were married. Some things, her mother had always told her, are simply meant to be kept a secret.

"You've been abused," Snape surmised quietly. "By whom?"

"Were you using Occlumency on me?" She asked defensively as she sat back onto his knees. He put his hands on her waist to keep her from falling off of him.

"No," said Snape. "And it's Legilimency. But you had the same look in your eyes I used to see in those of my mother."

Now Narcissa's gray eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to talk about it," she whispered. He pulled her forward so that her forehead was resting on his shoulder and hugged his arms around her. Though this – this fling – was new, they'd been friends for a long time, and it bothered him to think she'd been carrying around memories of a past as bad or worse than his own. Though many of his students believed him to be heartless, the truth was that it bothered him immensely to see any woman in pain, especially if at the hands of a father or lover. A childhood of comforting his mother and tending to her injuries had instilled in him a great sense of empathy toward those of the opposite sex, even if he didn't often show it.

"Severus?" she said, turning her head so that her cheek was resting on his shoulder, her mouth close to his neck.

"Yes?"

"I'd still like to… to be with you. If you think you can still want me."

He guided her face so they were looking at each other, their lips nearly touching. "I still want you," he said.

They kissed.

Softly at first.

It was nice.

"If it's dark upstairs, you can undress me there," she whispered as he again sucked at her neck. "It'll be alright."

"You can keep this on if you want to," he responded, moving one hand up to her breast, again fingering the silky red material. "I like it."

"Take me upstairs?"

He did.

* * *

 **A/N:** If you read any of the Augury Origin Tale fics, you'll know what childhood trauma Narcissa is referring to, but if you haven't don't worry, it will be more full revealed in time. Same goes for Snape's January hookup with Bellatrix. If you're curious and can't wait, check out DYING FOR THE DARK LORD (fic 3 in the series) but otherwise wait and see. Thanks for any follows, faves, and/or reviews! AL


	4. Mid-July, 1996

**A/N:** This chapter contains some lemony stuff. This if is M-Rated but if you're not over 17 (or dislike slightly smuttier content) please be advised. Nothing too intense – you're unlikely to need your smelling salts, but be advised. AL

* * *

 **Chapter Four – Mid-July, 1996**

With Lucius in Azkaban and the Dark Lord gradually taking over their guest rooms, Malfoy Manor no longer felt even remotely like home to Narcissa.

She was glad, of course, to finally have Draco back from Hogwarts, but he was as miserable as she was. He'd had such a wonderful year, too. Serving on the Inquisitorial Squad, playing Quidditch, taking down Dumbledore's Army, being favored by Professor Umbridge... all for naught, because thanks to Lucius getting caught having broken into the Ministry to fight Harry Potter, the greater Wizarding World now saw that Malfoys as the enemy. And thanks to his failure to procure the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Lucius wasn't held in the Dark Lord's high esteem at the moment either. On the contrary, the Dark Lord seemed determined to punish those Malfoys who remained free, repeatedly, in small ways she suspected were building to something much bigger.

This is why, one afternoon when Draco was out with friends for the first time since summer break began, when Bellatrix was also out, disguised, destination unknown to her sister, and the Dark Lord was busy tormenting someone else for a change (Wormtail, she suspected, based on the sound of the screams coming from down the hall) Narcissa found herself breaking up with Snape in the parlor where he'd recently warned Lucius not to neglect his wife.

"So you feel too guilty to continue sleeping with me while he's in prison?" asked Snape, confused. "But you didn't feel too guilty when he was here, being cuckolded?"

She sighed. He was seated in her favorite chair. She was pacing back and forth, her form-flattering eggplant-colored dress dragging on the floor behind her (without the heels she usually wore with it, it was too long).

"When I knew he was doing the same to me, I felt less guilty. Now that I know what he's going through… Severus, have you ever been to Azkaban?"

"No, of course not," he answered, trying to work out how he felt about getting dumped by a woman he wasn't even dating. Frankly, he was predominantly disappointed that he would no longer have access to the physical release she's been providing him on a regular basis (and, if he was being completely honest, the welcome companionship wasn't bad either) since their tryst at Spinner's End two months earlier.

Lucius had already been in Azkaban for a month, so Snape wasn't sure what pushed her to make this decision now, but he certainly wasn't going to let it seem like it bothered him. "Have _you_ ever been to Azkaban, Narcissa?"

"Yes, once."

This surprised him. He was sure he'd have heard about it had she ever been arrested.

"Nothing like that!" she said, correctly interpreting his expression. "I was granted permission to visit Bellatrix, shortly after Mother died, to inform her. Andromeda was… well, you know about Andromeda… so it was up to me to make all the arrangements and divide up the inheritance. Plus I suppose I was looking for comfort in my grief, though that was stupid. Not only were Bellatrix and Mother locked in a state of mutual loathing and blame at the time, but there's no way anyone in… in that place… can drum up empathy or sympathy or words of comfort for anybody. It sucks the happiness right out of you."

"I am aware of the effects Dementors have on people."

She ignored his sardonic tone. "It was 1987. Bella had been in there less than six years and she was already so broken. So mad. Not angry, but _mad._ Crazy. When they led me to her cell she was crouched in the corner, rocking back and forth, muttering to herself about who knows what. She did recognize me, and I think it cheered her to see me. She smiled. She was thin, far too thin, and the Ministry guard told me it was because she refused to eat, but I don't think prisoners were being properly fed."

Snape listened attentively. While he lacked any feelings of concern or sympathy over how Bellatrix had been treated in prison, he did feel badly about the way Narcissa felt about it, and he was additionally curious about the torment prisoners had undergone - specifically Bellatrix and her cousin, Sirius Black. Two of Snape's least favorite people. Call it childish, but he didn't mind imagining either of them in a perpetual state of misery.

"Narcissa will do _anything_ for me," Bellatrix told Snape shortly after meeting him while on assignment for the Dark Lord. He'd believed her, but that was years ago, before Draco was born and took over as the center of Narcissa's universe, so he doubted this still held true. "She's my baby sister. She looks up to me. She adores me. I'm her world." He wondered, for the thousandth time, if he should tell Narcissa about his past with her sister... no, he decided. She was breaking it off with him anyway. What would be the point?

"When I told her Mother had died," Narcissa continued, "She asked whether it was a slow and painful death. I said no. She said that was too bad, she could use a happy thought. I told her we didn't know where the Potter boy was or whether he would turn out to be a great dark wizard and she seemed to be the only one of us not comforted by the possibility. She said she didn't care if he was the greatest dark wizard in the history of Wizardry. He took down the Dark Lord and she wanted to be sure he would pay for it. She said if Lucius and I felt any loyalty at all, we'd be hunting him down. I said, 'Bella, the boy's six years old. What do you expect us to do?' She said, 'Kill him. It'll be easier now than when he's older.' I said I would do what I could, but obviously I didn't. Even if I'd thought the Dark Lord was coming back, even if we didn't hope that Potter would turn out to be something special, I couldn't track down and kill a little boy. The very idea was ridiculous."

"Your sister lacks your maternal instinct, I take it?"

"My sister lacks a lot of things," said Narcissa, glancing anxiously toward the door, presumably afraid Bella would come back and hear her. What were we discussing? she wondered, momentarily distracted. Oh, that's right. Azkaban. "It's awful, Severus. From the moment I entered I was inundated with horrible memories of all the worst things… the worst things I've ever experienced. Crying filled my ears and I couldn't tell if it was from the prisoners we were passing or if it existed only inside my own head. I felt five years old and terrified, like I did the first time…" her voice trailed off. Snape, moved by the pained expression on her face, was suddenly overcome with the desire to wrap her in his arms to comfort her, but he quickly suppressed this urge. _Not emotional_ , he reminded himself, inwardly annoyed by what he perceived as his weakness. _Only physical._

"It was like having boggarts all around me, and I've never been good at banishing them. I imagined Draco, dead, my deepest fear, as the voice of Lucius echoed in my ears - 'It's your fault he's dead, you're a bad mother, you killed him...' Things like that. And I felt like I would never know happiness again. I was there for less than an hour but it took me three days to recover. I don't understand how she managed to bounce back so quickly."

She didn't, Snape wanted to tell her. He had seen Bellatrix shortly after she escaped. She was desperate for contact with the Dark Lord. She looked awful. Emaciated and pale, with tired eyes, brittle nails, and a couple of chipped teeth. Even her hair didn't have the same fullness. Her reflexes were markedly slower than they had been before and her curses were not as powerful, nor did they land with the same accuracy. And it was clear insanity had crept into her already maniacal mind. They'd fought. They'd fought, Severus and Bellatrix, then they'd fucked, though for what reason he still couldn't discern. He supposed it had just happened, that there was no explanation.

Narcissa perched herself on the edge of the arm of the couch and continued. "Being there brought up every repressed memory I had and Bella, being older… well, she must have had more, right? Worse? And she was imprisoned there for over thirteen years. Now Lucius is there. I can only imagine what he's thinking, how he feels."

"I doubt Lucius has any repressed memories of childhood trauma to relive," said Snape, unsure of whether this would be of comfort to Narcissa. "He was a privileged boy who grew into a privileged man, much like Draco."

"You think Draco is a privileged boy?"

"I think the worst Draco has ever lived through – until now, perhaps – is coming in second to Potter in Quidditch. You've done well by him, Narcissa. He's always been safe, always been loved, always been highly regarded, he's always had friends, he currently has a girlfriend…"

Narcissa's gray eyes flashed. "You mean that Pansy Parkinson? I don't like her. I see the way she looks at him when we drop him at 9¾ every September. She's seeking to sink her hooks into him. What kind of a girl would do that?"

"Yes," said Snape dryly. "I do so hope she doesn't go and get herself pregnant so he'll be forced to marry her."

She crossed her arms like a petulant child, pouting. "Sod off, Severus Snape."

He smirked. "Come off it, Narcissa Malfoy." He used her full name as she had done, but his intention was to tease her. This annoyed her even more. "He won't be your little boy forever. Didn't I tell you that three months ago?"

"A lot has happened in the last three months," she said, still pouting. "So I cannot remember."

He stood, heading over to where she was perched on the end of the couch, and rubbed up and down her soft arms with his strong, slightly callused hands.

"If you'd like to stop doing… whatever we're doing… while Lucius is in Azkaban, I understand. When he is released - and I'm certain he will be, eventually – if you'd like to resume, send me an Owl. If not…" He waved a hand as if to say, 'No harm, no foul.'

"That's what I'd like," she said, looking up at him. "But I wouldn't mind if you kissed me goodbye."

He knew he shouldn't. He knew if he kissed her, he wouldn't end up saying goodbye. He wondered if perhaps she knew that too, if that's why she threw it out there. But even knowing it, he leaned down to meet her lips with his. As had become their usual routine, a tender kiss built quickly into a passionate one, and this time it was she who made the first move toward more, turning his body and pressing him down so that he was seated on the couch. She straddled him, taking his face in her delicate hands, and placing butterfly kisses over his lips, the corners of his mouth, his cheeks, even his temples. As she did so his hands snaked around her waist, pulling her more firmly down onto him. Her hands moved to explore his chest as his did the same to hers. He massaged her breasts in his palms and she moaned. From the pocket of her long eggplant-colored dress she drew her wand and used it to lock the parlor door.

"No one is here but us and the Dark Lord," she whispered. He nodded.

She nipped at his neck just above his collar while his hands hurried to undo the dozens of tiny buttons on the front of her dress.

"Fuck," he swore. "How many are there?"

"They're decorative," she informed him, pushing his fingers away from her chest. "There's a zipper in the back."

He rolled his eyes. "Now you tell me." He reached around and unzipped it, sliding the cap sleeves over her shoulders and leaving it pooled around her waist.

"I'll turn out the lights," she said, lifting her wand again.

"Don't," he said, taking it from her and placing it gently beside them on the couch. She froze.

"I won't look at you," he promised. To prove it, he closed his eyes, then pulled her up, and kissed her chest, just above the seam of her bra. His hand moved back to her breast, again massaging, and she found herself closing her own eyes, lost in the sensation. When he removed her bra, she kept her eyes closed, afraid that he had opened his.

"You are exquisite," he murmured. The feeling of his breath, hot upon her skin, made her shiver. He took her nipple into his mouth and began to suck, flicking his tongue over the hard pebble at center, making her moan. She could feel his hardness straining the fabric of his robe and responded accordingly, by freeing him of it, and starting to stroke until he was at the point he could no longer stand her ministration.

"I want you," he growled into her hair. "I need you. Now."

Gathering up the skirt of her dress to join the top looped around her hips, she positioned herself over him. He slid her underwear aside with his fingers and guided her down onto him. Once he was inside she began to bounce, lightly at first, prompted to move faster by his hands on her thighs. They were joined at the mouth, their hands traveling over each other's upper bodies, as she parted his robes to press her bare chest to his while he traced the smooth curvature of her spine with his fingers.

He did look at her, but only when her eyes were closed. When he did, he felt angry, angry at Lucius. This mess was his fault. If he hadn't neglected and stepped out on his wife, she never would have offered herself to Severus. And Snape, being weak as any man with typical desires and needs that were going generally unfulfilled due mostly to his own inability to connect with or commit to a woman, wouldn't have felt that he was justified in entering into a mutually-beneficial verbal contract with her, thus they wouldn't have started having sex in the first place. And if he hadn't started sleeping with her in the first place, he wouldn't be upset about this guilt-ridden breakup she'd attempted. Not that he'd let himself get emotionally attached to her. No, certainly not. But it was exciting, planning their secret trysts, and satisfying, bedding an attractive, willing woman who didn't expect romance or love or a future in return.

He tried to put it out of his mind, choosing to focus instead on the sensation of being inside her, the way she was moving on him, with him. In the back of his mind he knew it was crass to compare her with her older sister, but he couldn't help it. Though he supposed most men would disagree, he thought Narcissa was better in bed. Despite having as many years of experience as her sister, she fucked like a virgin, somewhat uncertain but eager to please, willing to experiment but not take control, and, frankly, more easily impressed by little techniques he'd picked up along the way and used to increase her pleasure. He employed one now, moving his fingers down, rubbing her as she thrust on top of him. Her breath changed, became more erratic, and he knew it was working.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, was impressed by nothing because she'd done _everything,_ and, Snape suspected, _nothing_ for her could ever compare to whatever the Dark Lord was capable of, no matter how selfish He likely was in that regard. Snape imagined, from seeing the way she threw herself at Him in Death Eaters meetings, hanging on His every word, desperate for His attention, that simply being _near_ Him was enough for her, and nothing anyone else provided could possibly compare.

Besides, with Narcissa, there was something more than lust. It wasn't love. Not even like, though he did like her. It was passion. With Bellatrix, sex was strictly physical and with one purpose, but with Narcissa...

"Oh… oh, Severus," she whispered Narcissa, bringing him back to the present. He continued to touch her, now taking her other breast into his mouth. Her movements slowed. She couldn't concentrate on pleasing him and on her impending orgasm at the same time. "Okay… okay… it's okay…"

He tried not to chuckle. She didn't always 'finish,' but when she did he thought she sounded a bit like she had to talk herself through it, which amused him. He, too, was on the brink of completion, and when she did, he did.

They were both still breathing heavily when she moved off of him, did a quick clean-up spell with her wand, and fixed her dress.

He stood, fixing his own clothes, and regarded her carefully. "This is the end?"

"I think it should be," she said, avoiding eye contact. "I love my husband, Severus."

"So you've told me, Narcissa. After literally every single time we've been together, you'd reminded me that you love your husband. Do you say it to make sure I remember, or to ensure _you_ do?"

She couldn't respond to this. She wasn't sure of the answer. She did know she loved her husband, there was no question about that. She'd cried until her head pounded and her eyes were sore when she learned from her sister that he'd been captured and taken to Azkaban. She couldn't sleep at night with the knowledge he wouldn't be there when she woke in the morning. Draco wasn't home yet, the Dark Lord was furious, and she was terrified. The following day He sent for her. Bellatrix escorted her to one of the room He would later be permanently occupying in the left third floor wing of the Manor.

 _"Your husband has failed me, Mrs. Malfoy," He hissed. She trembled. She didn't like the way he looked at her, couldn't stand the way He said her married name. Standing beside Him but behind, Bellatrix regarded her sister unforgivingly, which made everything worse. Growing up, Bella had been her protector, and now here she was, looking as though she was ready to applaud any pain He was set to dish out. "This will not go unpunished."_

 _"Yes, my Lord," she whispered, hoping He hadn't noticed her shaking hands._

 _"Bella, show your sister what happens to those who displease me," He said, gesturing toward Narcissa._

 _"Sorry, Cissy," said Bellatrix, not looking sorry. She held up her wand, the wand Narcissa had kept safe for her all those years she was in Azkaban, and pointed it at her baby sister. "Crucio!"_

 _Narcissa dropped to the floor, the pain palpable, but not as unbearable as she knew her sister to be capable of inflicting. Still, it had her doubled over and teary-eyed._

 _"That's enough." The Dark Lord held up a hand. "This is our headquarters now," He said. "We will be staying here as soon as I can ensure it will be safe, provided we finish a few things first." He and Bellatrix exchanged a glance. Narcissa, still on her knees on the floor, looked to her sister pleadingly, but saw no sympathy in the eyes that stared back at her. "Expect us in one month."_

"Narcissa?" Snape's arms around her waist broke Narcissa out of the memory. Overwhelmed, she rested her forehead on his chest and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Severus."

"He won't be there forever," Snape said. "He'll be fine. You both will."

"Thank you," she whispered, melting into his embrace. "For everything."


	5. August 1, 1996

**A/N:** In my other three Augury Origin fics, I don't give Trigger Warnings because I establish straight off that they wil be dark/for adult readers, but if you haven't read those, I will give you one for this chapter. There are bits about the childhood abuse Narcissa and Severus both faced (hers, sexual; his, physical). If you've read the other fics it won't come as a shock to you, but in case you haven't please be advised. And if you want to skip ahead just know that the next chapter is the one in which they make the Unbreakable Vow, so still a little dark, but the one after that is much lighter with more lemony stuff. It's not all angst/sadness! That said, the last chapter Lemon Warning and this one's Trigger Warning are the only warnings of any kind I will give, so if you do read expect that there may be more in the same vein later. Thx! Also, thanks for your reviews/follows/faves. They make me smile! **AL**

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 **Chapter Five – August 1** **st** **, 1996**

Yesterday, Harry Potter turned sixteen, Bellatrix Lestrange officially moved into Malfoy Manor, Igor Karkaroff was discovered dead, and Ollivander the wandmaker was locked up in the dungeon directly below the kitchen to be held indefinitely by order of the Dark Lord.

So all in all, it had not been a great day for the wife of Lucius Malfoy.

Oh, plus there had been that nasty business with the vomiting and the cramping and the dizziness and the missed menstrual cycle and the realization that after all these years of wondering whether she had somehow become barren, she was set to become a mother again. After a simple pregnancy test with her wand confirmed it, Narcissa, who'd been on the edge of collapse for over a month, finally fell apart.

She was certain the contraception potion she'd been brewing for two decades hadn't failed her, which meant she could pinpoint her conception down to the day.

It had to be the first time she was with Snape at Spinner's End, hours after she begged Lucius to tell her why he cheated and implored him to stop. That night, after sex (with Snape), followed by showering (alone), and a little dinner (with Snape… and wine), she returned home and was surprised to find Lucius already there.

"I thought about what you said this morning, darling," he'd said. "And I have been unfair to you. I meant what I said about how you should not meddle in my personal affairs, but I regret leaving you feeling as though I don't care about you. You're my wife, Narcissa. Of course I care about you. I love you. Come here."

And he'd taken her to bed and uttered words of affection while they made love, then spent the rest of the night holding her in the familiar comfort of his arms, which was all well and good (rather lovely, actually) except that it meant she was unable to get to the potion in the attic within the allotted six-to-eight hours after intercourse. Thus that _had_ to be when it happened. And since she had been with both Snape and her husband during that same potion-free day, she had no idea which of them must have fathered the fetus growing inside her now, which compounded the feelings of guilt and self-loathing and general _whoreishness_ she was already feeling.

So on July 31st, after saying goodnight to her sister and son, she hurriedly scrawled a letter to Severus Snape and sent it out via her best owl, Rasputin.

 _I need this. I can't brew it myself; I haven't got the ingredients, nor do I have the ability. Please help. It's urgent. –NM_

To it, she clipped a copy of a potion she'd found in one of Bella's favorite books, Magick Moste Evile, in which it was actually intended for use upon one's enemies, with "inevitable miscarriage in pregnant females" listed only as a side-effect. No longer used as a means to torture one's enemies into talking, a couple of minor alterations made it an ideal abortion potion, albeit a still controversial one. One with potentially fatal side-effects, even when brewed correctly. It took nearly two weeks to brew, was far more complicated than anything she'd attempted in years, and required a few things she couldn't get her hands on without knowing the right people and visiting the right places in Knockturn Alley, both of which were far too dangerous, but she knew if anyone else could brew it, he could.

He would have to start making it right away, because if she was right about the date (and she knew she was) she only had two weeks before she would be three months along, after which it was illegal in the Wizarding World to use a potion to terminate a pregnancy, which meant she'd need to go to St. Mungos and see a mediwitch, something she absolutely could not risk.

She expected him to reply promptly.

She did not expect him to surprise her by showing up at Malfoy Manor the following evening after dinner, holding her letter, demanding more information.

She invited him into her bedroom, magically locking the door and charming the room with "Muffliato" to ensure their total privacy, and told him what she knew.

"Shit, Narcissa," he said. He slammed his hand down on her dresser, the one with the large mirror. "How could you let this happen?"

"Not on purpose!"

"What if it's his?" asked Snape, glaring at her. "He's been asking for this for fifteen years. Are you going to deny him the second child he so desires?"

"What if it's _not_ his?" she asked, glaring right back. "Do _you_ want to be a father? Do you want me to have _your_ baby?"

He did not respond. He couldn't. He was too angry. This was not what he'd signed up for. He'd agreed to companionship and sex, to desire her and listen to her in exchange for his own physical satiation on the regular. That was all.

Quite honestly, he wasn't even sure how he felt about abortion potions in general. He'd never been asked to brew one before, certainly not one that would be used to end the existence of a child that might be his own. No, he didn't want to be a father, especially not the father of the baby of his closest friend's wife, but he didn't exactly want to help her terminate it either.

Fuck.

Damn it.

Bloody hell.

When it came down to it, he had no choice.

"I'll have it for you in exactly two weeks." He turned, his robes flaring out behind him, opened the door, and was about to leave when a choked whimper stopped him. He shut the door, turning back to face her, and found that she was face-down on her bed, shaking, sobbing.

"Shit," he said again. He couldn't leave her like this, no matter how furious he was. She looked so pathetic, so broken. "It's fine, Narcissa. I'll brew the potion. I can get the ingredients. No one else ever has to know."

"I can't have a baby now, Severus," she said through her sobs, her entire body shaking with each one. "I can't. I can't. Not with the Dark Lord living upstairs, not with my crazy sister down the hall, with my husband in Azkaban, with my son awaiting the punishment he doesn't deserve but will receive on his father's behalf… not with war looming… not with… not with… I can't… I can't…"

"You won't," he said, taking a step toward her. "I'll brew the potion, I said. It's fine."

"It's _not_ fine! I've lost babies before, Severus. It was awful. Awful! And now… now… now here I am, pregnant again, and I'm going to… to… to… to terminate it, like it's nothing!"

"You're doing the best thing you can for your family," Snape assured her. He took another step toward the bed but did not dare to go further.

"If the baby belongs to Lucius, and I give birth to it, and he remains in Azkaban, my child will never know his father. Or her father. Do you know how that is? I didn't know my father."

"Fathers are overrated," Snape sneered, aware that he wasn't likely to make the best one either, but at the same time certain none could be worse than his own.

"Mine died shortly after I turned three," she explained. "I can't recall anything about him, not really. A wisp of memory here and there, maybe. He liked ice cream from Florean Fortescue's, I suppose I remember that. He used to take us there. That's why I was confused when Bella said they'd kidnapped and killed old Florean the other day. There didn't seem to be any purpose to it and she'd never had anything against him. Having ice cream there was one of our happier childhood memories, but she was clear that she led the pack, to torture and kill him, for sport I suppose. Given everything, I don't know why she'd choose… Oh, you don't care. Just go. Please. I'll see you in two weeks."

He knew he shouldn't care. He knew he should go. But yet again, against his better judgment, he found himself drawn to her. He sat beside her on the bed. She was still lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, her face tear-stained. He moved her hair back away from her face and wiped her cheeks gently with his thumb.

"My father was a monster," he said. "I'm glad yours wasn't."

"Mother remarried shortly thereafter," Narcissa said. She rolled onto her back. Without realizing what he was doing, Snape moved his right hand to rest on her abdomen, which didn't feel any different to him, but he wondered whether it did to her. She placed her left hand over his right one. "Bellatrix used the Cruciatus curse on me, you know. He told her to and she did. Like it was nothing. I wonder if the baby felt it."

Snape was jarred for a millisecond, not having expected her to jump from her mother's remarriage to her sister enacting a punishment per the request of the Dark Lord and back to the baby.

"You've said she was your protector when you were children?" prompted Snape, for the first time curious about the girl Bellatrix had been _before_ she'd fallen for a sociopath and made clear her penchant for sadism. Was she always evil, waiting for someone like the Dark Lord to draw it out? Or had He changed her somehow, made her who she was? Snape looked down at Narcissa expecting to see hurt, betrayal, or maybe anger, but her eyes were closed.

"Yes. Mine and Andromeda's. She's the eldest. She took that role quite seriously."

"From whom was she protecting you?"

Her eyes squeezed more tightly shut.

"Stepfather. He began bothering Bella as soon as he and Mother were married. Not me. I didn't even know about it until I was five. That's when… I suppose that's when he figured I was old enough. I told my sisters right away. I was confused and upset and afraid. Bella said not to worry. She said they'd been through the same, and they were fine. She said just close your eyes and pretend to be someplace else. I tried the next time but it didn't work and instead I cried and carried on until Mother came in and slapped me, so the next morning Bella said if I was really scared I could call for her, she'd wake up right away, and she would offer to take my place. Which she did. More than once. Not Andromeda. She liked to pretend to be asleep. She always acted like she couldn't hear me cry."

Now Snape was angry again, but for an entirely different reason. Realization hit him at the same time as two distinct memories - the first time he'd been with Narcissa intimately, when she'd flinched away from his fingers, telling him "Not like that," and the time he'd joked to Bellatrix that her stepfather drank bourbon to escape her company, only for her to reply that he didn't know how wrong he was. He hadn't given either instance a second thought... until now.

"Your stepfather _touched_ you? _All of you_? For how long?"

"Forever," Narcissa said, her voice small, almost sounding faraway. "He was murdered when I was a third year. He was out shopping with Andromeda when a mad Muggle killed him, saying something about our kind or… I don't know, something. I felt awful at the time because Mother was so sad and I wanted to be sad too, I felt I should be. I mean, he was the only father I really knew, and he wasn't _all_ bad. He liked to take me shopping and buy me pretty things and tell me I was special. But here he was murdered and I found I didn't feel badly about it at all. On the contrary, I was relieved. Bella was a seventh year and Meda was in fifth and I knew it was only a matter of time before they were all out of the house and I was alone… alone with him. Do you think that's terrible? That I couldn't muster up even a bit of sadness over the death of the man who raised me?"

"I think I'm glad he was killed by a mad Muggle when he was and the only tragedy is that it didn't happen a decade sooner," said Snape, his jaw twitching.

"He _raised_ me," said Narcissa.

"He _molested_ you," said Snape.

"He liked to look at me," she said softly. "That's why I prefer the dark."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so without speaking they remained in those positions for some time: her on her back staring at the ceiling, him seated beside her with his hand on her abdomen. The light through the curtains dimmed to pink and orange and purple and finally went dark, indicating the sun had set. Finally, Snape broke the silence.

"My father used to beat my mother."

Narcissa sat up and moved to sit beside him on the bed. She tucked her legs under her, resting on her knees. "You can tell me about it, if you want to."

For reasons Snape couldn't put into words, yes, he did want to. Precious few people knew anything about his family. Of everyone he'd ever had in his life, he'd confessed the most to Lily, but she was gone, and with her died his desire to connect emotionally to another living being.

"My father resented my mother for her magic. He resented her for many things, actually. And that led to… tension. But she was not always the victim. She would goad him intentionally, start fights she couldn't finish. I don't know why. She always lost. They'd both be screaming and then he'd beat her. He liked me to watch. He said I needed to learn how to control women, to put them in their rightful place. I suppose that's partly why I saw the appeal of the Death Eaters as a young man. My father thought a man's rightful place was lording over women. I thought a man's rightful place was secondary to a wizard's."

"Your father was a Muggle?" Narcissa's gray eyes were wide, shocked, and somewhat scandalized. "You're a half-blood? Does the Dark Lord know?"

"The Dark Lord understands that we cannot control our parentage, only the way we feel about it and the ways we will work to better the future Wizarding world."

She nodded, visibly uncomfortable.

"It bothers you that you've slept with a half-blood," Snape said matter-of-factly, nudging her shoulder with his, hiding a smirk. "Admit it."

"I… no… no, of course not." She bit her lip and began twirling her hair, a nervous habit he'd come to find... endearing. In response, he smiled. Not because he believed her, but because he didn't. Her eyes met his.

"Does the Dark Lord really know?"

"I promise you, He knows."

"Does Dumbledore?"

"He does."

"Does my sister?"

"I doubt it. Why would she?"

Narcissa shrugged. "She seems to know everything about everyone, that's all. If she doesn't know this, don't tell her. She won't let you forget it. Nor me, for… you know. She's not… she's not as accepting of half-bloods as I am."

"Bellatrix has no moral high ground here," said Snape, reining in his desire to laugh at Narcissa's self-assessment ( _accepting_? Ha!).

"What do you mean?"

"I have it on good authority that your darling sister has had her own _encounters_ with half-bloods, _Mudbloods,"_ – he truly hated to use that word but couldn't resist, considering the effect he knew it would have – "and Muggles."

Narcissa gasped but was clearly trying to hide her disgust. Snape appreciated the attempt, however poor it was.

"You don't know your sister as well as you think you do," he went on. "She is in love with the Dark Lord. She has been for a long time. I suspect she's known Him much longer than anyone realizes and has likely been in love with Him all that time. She would do anything He asked. During the First War, she did things… things _I_ wouldn't do. Things Lucius wouldn't do. Hell, she did things even the likes of Macnair or the Carrows wouldn't even willingly do. Things with Muggles, with blood-traitors... torturous things, sexual things... things to men, things to women... Anything He requested of her, she gladly obliged."

Now Narcissa looked a twinge green, like she might be sick. "I don't want to know."

"No," Snape agreed. "You don't."

"Do you really think she's in love with Him? I… I recognized her infatuation, of course. I've always believed that her obsession with Him was more about her own blood-lust and because she is in awe of His power, and also because it was He who championed the cause she so believes in. But _love?"_

"Love is a funny thing," said Snape. "It doesn't have to make sense."

Narcissa wrinkled her nose, repulsed. "Does He love her?"

"Absolutely not," said Snape. "Doubt He could even if He wanted to. He doesn't know how. And love, however painful and one-sided and screwed up as it can be, requires a certain degree of emotional connection and vulnerability that the Dark Lord simply does not possess."

"I loved Stepfather," Narcissa said, bringing the conversation back around. "He taught me magic before I was old enough to use it. He once let me Obliviate Andromeda using his wand; I was perhaps nine. And he was the first one who introduced me to the art of potion-making. I'd held him concoct Mother's sleeping draught – she had terrible insomnia, so without it she couldn't sleep a wink. He also bought me beautiful dresses and gloves and hats and told me how pretty I was. He told everyone how pretty I was. He read to me when I was very small. I liked the Tales of Beedle the Bard, especially 'Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump.' Because of Stepfather I was reading as well as Bellatrix when I was six and she was ten, and she was _not_ a simple-minded girl, so that's saying something! He always took my side when I'd fight with my sisters, no matter whether I was wrong or right, and I was the only one of us girls he ever introduced as his daughter. But when he died… well, like I told you, all I could feel was relief. And guilt over being glad to be rid of him." Narcissa twirled her hair more intensely, so much that he wondered if she ever twirled it until it fell out. She stared straight ahead, afraid to look at Snape, unsure of what expression she'd see. Had she dared to look, she'd have been met with a mix of fury and pity and a deep set pain in knowing that they were connected in such a dark way, through their abusive childhoods, something those who had upbringings like Lucius and Lily and that blasted James Potter could never understand.

"Do you think I'm a terrible person?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"No," Snape assured her. "You're not terrible. If anything, you're too forgiving, and too hard on yourself. He didn't deserve for you to love him, Narcissa. Not with what he did to you. But there was a time when I loved my father, too."

"What changed?" Her legs were going numb from sitting perched on her knees, she made herself comfortable on her stomach on her usual side of the bed, her head resting on her folded arms atop her pillow. To her (not unpleasant) surprise, Snape moved to be beside her, sitting propped up against the headboard, with a pillow between it and his lower back.

"I was eight. We were poor. We didn't need to be, but he was too proud to let my mother work, and then he injured his back so he was out of work himself. Then we lost our flat and had to move into the home owned by my mother's mother's family, the one on Spinner's End. He resented that, too. Finally he let her take a job as a secretary at the Ministry, but then he resented her even more, her and her magic, because it represented a world he could never be part of, though he insisted it was because witches and wizards are all freaks. I often wondered what attracted my parents to each other in the first place, as they had nothing in common and certainly didn't seem to hold any affection toward each other, but I suppose it's neither here nor there."

Narcissa rolled onto her side and looped her arm around Snape's waist, holding her head up with her free hand, her elbow on the pillow. He, in turn, placed his hand on her back to pull her closer, then, instinctively, brought his fingers up to trace circles on the exposed skin on the back of her neck.

"They had a massive row shortly after we moved in and she began her new job. He'd caught her using magic in the house while making dinner. He forbade magic in the house, often threatening to break her wand in two. She was cowering in the corner of the kitchen, crying, while he berated her, his fist raised, ready to strike. She was still holding her wand when he finally began hitting her. Why she didn't use it, I never understood. Then he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck like a cat and dragged me to her. He informed me again of a woman's rightful place and told me to hit her. I wouldn't do it. So he hit me. He demanded again that I hit her. I couldn't. So he hit me. And again and again. Finally she said, 'Damn it, Severus, just do it!' so I did. I hit her across the face, the way I'd seen him do so many times. And she cried. I hadn't hit her very hard but she cried. Then my father stormed out. I tried to hug her, to comfort her, but she didn't want me around. That night, after I was in bed, my father was still out. I was lying there in the dark, hating him, considering all the awful things I'd do to punish him once I had a wand of my own, but I was hating her too, because she _did_ have a wand. She didn't _have_ to let him do that. She could have cursed him into oblivion and we could've lived just us, but she wouldn't. I thought her weak and pathetic and useless. As usual, she came in around midnight to kiss me goodnight. I asked her why she told me to hit her. She said it hurt her more to watch him hit me than it did to get hit herself. Not to sound saccharine, but I learned something about love that night. And I knew then that I did not, and could not, love my father."

"Merlin's beard," Narcissa whispered, a phrase borrowed from Andromeda. "Parents certainly _are_ adept at screwing up their children, aren't they? Lucius doesn't understand that because he had an idyllic childhood - privileged, like you said. He was spoiled, treated like a little prince by both parents, the only grandchild on either side, he got everything he wanted, never a moment's pain, but I know, and you know… It's why I wanted Draco nearby, at Hogwarts, not far away at Durmstrang, and why, when he was little, I insisted upon sending him to a one-room school taught by a local witch instead of that prestigious boarding school Lucius attended. I didn't bring a child into the world so I could send it off to be raised without me. And it's why I dote on him, why I've coddled him, especially since… I wasn't the best mother when he was a baby, Severus. I wanted to be, I loved him so, but... I don't know... I think I had something wrong with me… so I've been making it up to him ever since! Lucius says that's made him weak and I don't know – I don't want him to be weak, but I _do_ want him to know he's loved. I don't care how old he is, Severus, he's my baby." She placed her hand on her abdomen, where Snape's had rested. "My _only_ baby."

He couldn't explain why this seemed a good moment to kiss her, but he did, repositioning himself so that they were lying side by side. He kissed her and she kissed him back and though she pulled him on top of her and held him close, that's all they did, they kissed, over and over until both were flushed and breathless. When they broke for air, he reclined onto his back and she moved with him, to rest her head on his chest, with his arm around her back and hers around his waist. He stroked her hair, trying not to think about what they were doing or what would happen when it was over.

They talked a bit more, but not about anything important or deep or painful or even interesting. Eventually she fell asleep in his arms, both still fully dressed, not having done anything more than kissed each other, though Snape couldn't help feeling that this evening was far more intimate than any other they'd ever spent in each other company. He managed to nod off an hour or so later and woke before her in the morning. He extricated himself from the bed and left a note. Then he slipped out without being seen or heard by anyone else in the house. Thankfully it seemed everyone was still fast asleep.

When she opened her eyes hours later she was alone, both physically and emotionally. Her first thought was of Lucius, as it was every morning she awoke without him since his imprisonment, and she felt a pang of longing and worry. Her second thought was of Severus. She wondered how long he'd stayed, why he'd left. Her final thought was of the baby she was carrying. She couldn't have another child. Not now. Not with her husband in prison and the Dark Lord seeking to punish them and especially not without knowing for certain who its father was.

She spotted the note. With a sinking feeling, she unfolded it, hands slightly trembling. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, she supposed. But he'd made himself clear. And in her head, though her heart was conflicted, she knew he was right.

She reread it twice, then used her wand to set it on fire, destroying the evidence. "Goodbye," she whispered.

The note had read,

 _It is for the best if this doesn't happen again. -SS_


	6. August 15, 1996

**Chapter Six – August 15, 1996**

"You will murder Albus Dumbledore," the Dark Lord hissed, and Narcissa was unable to stifle her horrified gasp. "I will give you this one year, while you are at Hogwarts, to complete the task. At the end, if he is dead, you will be handsomely rewarded, with your family's honor restored, and you will be given the Dark Mark."

Draco actually perked up at this, sat up a little straighter, puffed out his chest... but the Dark Lord was not done.

"However, if at the end of the school year Dumbledore is not dead, _you will be_."

Breakfast lurched up in Narcissa's stomach as it took all she had not to vomit. She had suspected for nearly two months that the Dark Lord was gearing up to punish her family in some way after Lucius' error at the Ministry that landed him in Azkaban, but this? To assign her son a task that he was clearly incapable of completing, one that would surely result in his own death?

She found herself unable to breathe, panicking, looking across the antique wooden table to her older sister for support. Certainly if anyone could appeal to the Dark Lord on their behalf, it would be Bellatrix. With her own husband in Azkaban as well, the eldest Black sister had taken to following the Dark Lord around like a puppy, doing His bidding, hanging on His every word, even spending whole evenings in the left upstairs wing He'd claimed as His own quarters within Malfoy Manor, clearly working herself to keep in His good graces. Narcissa did not like to think about what they might be doing alone overnight together, but she was positive that her sister was the closest thing to an emotional connection the Dark Lord had, even if He was nearly as angry with her at the moment as with those caught at the Ministry.

"Yes, my Lord," Draco had said, cool and calm, even though his mother was sure he had to be frantic on the inside, same as she was.

"Please… please, my Lord," said Narcissa, unable to keep quiet. "Please, Draco is just a boy. Dumbledore is… he's a powerful wizard. You cannot truly expect… There's no way Draco can… you're setting him up for failure!" On that last line her voice broke and a stream of tears escaped her eyes. Draco stared down at the table in front of him as if she wasn't there.

The Dark Lord smiled. "Bella, please control your sister. I have no use for emotional theatrics."

Narcissa looked to Bellatrix, silently begging her to say anything, to do _anything_ , to use whatever power she must have to change his mind, but instead Bella used the eye contact to place a thought in Narcissa's mind using Legillimency. "Shut up, Cissy. You should be proud of Draco."

"No!" Narcissa responded out loud, unaware that only she had heard her sister's voice. "Please!" She turned to the Dark Lord, pleading, her hands clasped together as if in prayer, her gray eyes full of tears. "My Lord, for what Lucius has done… has failed to do… I know that you are angry, but Draco… I beg of you… my Draco…"

"I won't ask you again to control your sister," said the Dark Lord. He was not smiling anymore. Narcissa looked back to Bellatrix, who did not bother with Legillimency this time. Instead, Narcissa felt herself compelled against her will to sit up straighter, to stop crying.

 _"_ _You will keep calm. You will nod. You will apologize to the Dark Lord for your impertinence."_

It was the Imperius Curse. Her own damn sister had placed her under the Imperius Curse.

"I apologize, my Lord," said Narcissa in a collected voice that wasn't quite hers.

 _"_ _Draco would be honored to complete this task for you."_ Bella prompted from inside Narcissa's mind.

"Draco would be honored to complete this task for you." Narcissa wanted to scream. How could she sound so calm when internally she was completely melting down?

 _"_ _Just as I am honored that you have assigned it to him."_

No, Narcissa couldn't say that. She couldn't!

But she also couldn't not say it.

 _"_ _Just as I am honored that you have assigned it to him."_ Her sister prompted again via the Imperius.

Damn you, Bellatrix.

"Just as I am honored that you have assigned it to him."

"Good." The Dark Lord stood, indicating that the others – Bellatrix, Draco, and Narcissa – remain seated. "You know what you must do. Good luck, Draco."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"You will speak of this to no one," added the Dark Lord. "No one."

With that, the Dark Lord was gone and Narcissa was free from the Imperius Curse, free from her sister's control.

Furious, Narcissa rounded on her sister.

"What the _fuck,_ Bella? You could have done something, you could have said something, but no! You put me under the Imperius Curse? The Imperius Curse! An Unforgivable Curse! Your own _fucking_ sister? How could you? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

At this, Draco flinched slightly. He'd never heard his mother use that word before. It felt foreign to hear such fury dripping from her voice.

"It was for your own good, Cissy!" insisted Bellatrix. "You were making the Dark Lord angry, carrying on like that! Which would you rather, dear sister? That _I_ put you under the Imperius Curse, or that _He_ put _us both_ under the Cruciatus Curse?"

Narcissa was still quaking with intense fury over what she viewed as complete betrayal. "He _values_ you, Bellatrix. You could have tried!"

"I... the Dark Lord and I... we no longer... lately... let's just say _I_ haven't exactly been top of His list since what happened in the Department of Mysteries either, you know! I'm only starting to win back His trust. It's not a time to ask for favors!""

"What better time than now, when your sister's only son is facing certain death? Bloody hell, Bella! You could have… for the love of… I mean... he's your nephew, Bellatrix Lestrange! Don't you even care?"

At the table, Draco was still seated exactly as he'd been, staring at his folded hands, not moving, not speaking, no longer giving any indication he could even hear his mother and aunt fighting.

"If he were my son, I'd be proud, Cissy! I'd make sure he knows precisely what he needs to know, what he needs to do to carry out the task!"

"He expects Draco to die! My son is being sacrificed to send a message!"

"I would gladly sacrifice my child to the Dark Lord, Narcissa!" snapped Bellatrix.

"Then I suppose we're all very lucky you've thus far proven yourself unable to reproduce, Bella!"

Bellatrix was visibly stung by that. It was no secret she'd married Rodolphus because of his family lineage and that, though they didn't love each other, they'd always planned to have at least one child to continue their bloodlines. But despite nearly 23 years of marriage, one year less than Narcissa and Lucius, she hadn't managed to conceive a child by him. Of course, she'd spent more than half that time in Azkaban… but still. Narcissa knew they'd tried. And failed.

"Doesn't exactly mean anything, does it?" asked Narcissa, determined to wound her sister further. "To promise the sacrifice or service of a child you know you're _never_ going to have?"

Bellatrix stood up straighter, haughty, and replied in a cold voice. "If Draco were my son, I'd consider this assignment an honor."

"But he's not your son!" Narcissa could tell she was getting to her sister, but that wasn't good enough. She wanted to make her suffer, to suffer as she was suffering, so she pressed on. "You don't have a son, remember? You have nothing and no one. You have a husband you can't stand, who's locked up in Azkaban, and you have the Dark Lord, who'll never reciprocate whatever you feel for Him, and you have no sons and no daughters and you never, ever will!"

If Bellatrix were the crying type, that might have been the line that did it, the reminder that she was not only childless, but that the Dark Lord might not love her as she did Him... torn between being livid and heartbroken she applied a different tactic.

"Cissy, if Draco succeeds, he'll be one of the youngest to be given the Dark Mark. Depending upon how quickly he does it, he may be the youngest _ever_! Younger even than I was, younger than Hortensia Higgins." Bellatrix spit out the woman's name like tasted of cigarettes. Bella did not like that Hortensia had been exactly seventeen years and seven months old when she received her Mark, whereas Bellatrix was closer to eighteen, though the latter bared the distinction of being the first woman to receive it. "Think of the prestige it would bring to you, Cissy! You and Lucius too! Draco will be a hero among us! How glorious would it be? Killing that Muggle-loving old fairy!"

"Do you hear yourself, Bellatrix?" Narcissa grabbed her sister by the wrist, digging her fingernails into Bella's skin until she drew blood. If Bella felt any pain, she didn't let on. "There's _no way_ he's going to succeed! That's why he's been given the job! He's going to die. The Dark Lord wants my son to die!"

"The Dark Lord wants you to stop treating him like a little boy," sneered Bellatrix, her eyes darting accusingly at Draco, as if he'd _asked_ his mother to baby him. "He's less than a year away from turning of age! Practically a grown man. The things _we_ were doing at that age, Cissy, I mean, damn! Don't you remember? We weren't children! Neither is Draco! He's a talented, capable wizard, and I for one plan to do all I can to ensure he can complete the task to the Dark Lord's satisfaction, bringing your family back into His good graces, restoring your honor among the Death Eaters, and earning him the Dark Mark. You can sit around and cry about it but I refuse to... I refuse to because I'm not a little _bitch,_ and neither is Draco. Draco? Draco!" She snapped her fingers to get his attention.

Draco's lifted his face to look at them but his expression was blank, unreadable. He looked first to his mother, then to his aunt. He did not say a word.

"I'm going to give you a crash course in Occlumency. We have less than two and a half weeks before you return to Hogwarts. I want to be absolutely _certain_ that Mudblood-worshiping old fool can't see into your mind and pick up on what you're doing. We should also practice some of your defensive spells before you go, and perhaps I'll teach you a few new offensive ones too. Would you like that, darling? How about we practice the Cruciatus?"

At this, Draco blanched. Bella looked from him to her sister and back again, noting with a sigh that Draco looked almost as pale, shocked, and sick as his mother.

"Alright," she said, rolling her eyes. "We'll hold off on the Unforgivables for today and maybe start with the Imperius tomorrow. But Occlumency, that we must get started straight away. _Almost_ straight away. First, I need something to eat. Meet me in the parlor in an hour. Oh, don't look at me like that, Cissy." Bellatrix shot her sister a glare of pure annoyance. "You look pathetic."

"Draco…" Narcissa rushed to his side, taking his face in her hands to make him look at her. "It's alright, darling. We'll figure something out, okay? Mummy won't let you get hurt."

"You won't get hurt because Auntie's going to make sure you have the tools necessary to complete the task, Draco," said Bellatrix, moving to sit beside him on the other side, like the devil on his shoulder, warring against the angel Narcissa.

"You won't have to kill Dumbledore, darling. I'll find a way to help you. I'll figure it out."

"You _will_ have to kill Dumbledore, darling," countered Bellatrix. "I see that you're nervous now, but I promise you, it'll be fine. Better than fine. It'll feel wonderful. The first life you take, Draco…" She swelled contentedly by the memory of her own initial foray into murder. "I was only a little older than you on my first time. I didn't even use the Killing Curse, not the first time. I simply stunned him and then, when he was immobile, I took out my knife."

Narcissa shivered. Her sister's eyes were wide, manic, full of bloodlust, the way they'd looked in Azkaban, only more focused. As Bella spoke she removed the knife from her the sheath on her hip. It was silver with a black handle. "It was a gift from the Dark Lord. Once I'd proven myself a worthy student, He gifted it to me," she said, twisting it in front of Draco's eyes. "We took it slow, that first time. I carved my initials into the man's arm. I wasn't married then, so I drew two Bs." She mimed doing so into the air. Draco's eyes remained transfixed on the point of the knife. "He was a Muggle, a hobo. We picked him up for me to practice on, since I'd learned all I could on small animals but the war hadn't started yet so we had to be cautious about killing our own kind." Bella's deep-sunk dark eyes were still wild, but they now took on another look too, a faraway look that greatly resembled the way they used to dim when she was abused as a child and needed to – as she'd told Narcissa – pretend to be someplace else. She didn't seem at all frightened, though, like she did back then. On the contrary, her breathing became shallow, harder, excited, and her lips wore the hint of a smile as she added, "The plan was to torture him until it wasn't fun anymore, then use the Killing Curse, but when I started pressing it into his neck, like this." Gently she rested the tip of the knife against Draco's throat, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I couldn't stop. The blade sunk in deeper and deeper into his filthy Muggle flesh until he took his last little breath." Her voice was throaty, her breathing still labored, as she moved the knife from his throat back to the space in front of them.

Narcissa got the distinct impression her sister's mind had retreated to that moment in time. She couldn't speak, couldn't move. She had never in her life felt as terrified of her sister as she did in that moment.

"I can't quite put into words the rush," continued Bellatrix, running her middle finger over the knife's blade, ever so slightly drawing her own blood. "The feeling of complete power that comes from watching a person breathe that last breath. Murder, darling. I can't explain it. It's exhilarating. Intoxicating. Orgasmic." She licked the blood off the blade and closed her eyes. After a seconds silent pause, Bellatrix shook her head so hard her curls bounced against Draco's cheek then opened her eyes. She was focused again, returned to reality.

"And it'll be so much better for you, Draco!" Grinning, voice positively chipper, Bellatrix slipped the knife back into the sheath on her hip. "I had to practice on someone I knew nothing about, but you? You're going to take out the enemy, Potter's mentor, the leader of the anti-pureblood movement! And unlike me, you won't have to keep it a secret. Everyone can know! Everyone _will_ know! One hour, alright? Then Occlumency lessons begin."

She gave Narcissa's hair a quick tug, a habit she'd picked up as a girl and always meant as a gesture of affection, then beamed at both of them as if they'd been talking about something exciting like going on holiday, before exiting the dining room.

"Oh, Draco," said Narcissa, pulling her son to her. Though he still seemed to be in shock, he allowed himself to be held like the little boy his aunt insisted he wasn't, with his head buried into his mother's neck and her arms wrapped tightly around him. They didn't stay like this for long, though. They couldn't. In one hour, he had an appointment with his Auntie Bella.

"Mother?" he said, moving out of her embrace. "I can do this. I will. I hate that Muggle-lover, Dumbledore. Potter's always been his pet. And Weasley, and Granger, the Mudblood. He favors them. Auntie is right – this will restore our family's honor. I'll be given the Dark Mark. This is an opportunity for me to prove myself. Auntie's right," he said again, standing up, squaring his shoulders, hoping he resembled his father. "I'm not a little boy anymore. I'm sixteen. I can do it. I will do it. I will, Mother." He smiled. Actually _smiled_ , with all the bravado of a teenager with no true sense of what was at stake. "I'm going to kill Dumbledore!"

After he'd left the room, Narcissa cried. Then an Owl arrived and with it, a package. A vial of liquid, brewed by Severus Snape.

It was not labelled. There was no note. But she knew.

It had been two weeks. They hadn't spoken since the night they spent together, but it was obvious: this was the abortion potion she'd asked for.

She swallowed it in three large gulps, knowing if she had to think it over she would lose her nerve.

Three days later, mildly cramping, still bleeding, absolutely scared out of her skin for her son, and with nowhere else to turn, Narcissa apparated as close to Spinner's End as she dared. She had to do something. She had to.

But she was not alone.

"Wait!"

Bellatrix appeared just seconds after her sister, following after her as quickly as she could. To her left a startled fox made to run, but she took him out in a flash of green lights.

"Just a fox. I thought perhaps an Auror… Cissy, wait!"

Narcissa ignored her sister, who continued to cry after her and follow behind, as she hurried the familiar route to Snape's home on Spinner's End.

It was a Muggle area, not attractive or even presentable by Black family standards. Bella pointed this out to Narcissa, who continued to ignore her. She slipped through a gap in the rusty railings that separated the river from the street.

"Cissy," whined Bellatrix, having finally caught up. "You must not do this, you can't trust him!"

"The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?" Narcissa snapped back.

"The Dark Lord is, I believe, mistaken," panted Bella, who immediately felt a twinge of fear and guilt over having just vocalized doubt of her Master's ability to discern who to trust. Bellatrix tried again to convince her sister to keep quiet about the whole thing, not releasing her grip on her younger sister's arm, but Narcissa snarled for her to let go. She removed her wand from her cloak, holding it threateningly in her sister's face, which made Bellatrix laugh.

"Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't."

"There is nothing I wouldn't do anymore!" replied Narcissa, on the verge of hysteria, slashing down with her wand, causing a painful streak of heat to strike Bella on the arm. She stalked off toward Snape's home, pretending she couldn't hear Bellatrix screaming "Narcissa!" behind her, and also choosing not to point out that Bella had twice recently used Unforgivable Curses on Narcissa, so really, it would only be fair to return the favor.

Bellatrix knew better than to try to stop her sister again, but still she followed, until they reached Snape's mother's mother's home, the home of a poor witch who'd raised her daughter in a Muggle village only for said daughter to end up married to a Muggle man, raising a half-blood son who hated that house almost as much as he hated his Muggle father.

"Fuck," cursed Bella, finally catching up to Narcissa, who had already knocked on the door.

"Narcissa!" said Snape. "What a pleasant surprise!" Though he was reasonably certain he knew why the Black sisters were there, he meant those words. He was pleased to see her, even if he wasn't as surprised as he pantomimed. He wondered whether she'd taken the potion (he assumed she had) and was glad she didn't seem any worse for wear, at least physically.

"Severus," she whispered, pain palpable in her voice. "May I speak to you? It's urgent."

The last time she'd needed him for something urgent, it had been to terminate her pregnancy. Setting this aside in his mind he said, "But of course," and opened the door to her. She entered, followed by Bellatrix.

"Snape," Bellatrix said curtly, not indicating she'd ever been to his home before, when in fact the last time she'd been there they'd ended up screwing on his couch. His mouth curled into a slightly mocking smile as he returned the greeting.

"Bellatrix."

They entered the sitting room, surrounded by books, lit only by candles. Narcissa threw off her cloak and sat on the couch. She kept her shaking hands clasped together in her lap. Bella stood behind her, almost protectively, almost as if challenging him. This, too, made him smile. He settled into an armchair, facing them.

Narcissa worried that they weren't alone, and it was good she did, because Wormtail was hiding behind a door. After a brief argument with Snape, Wormtail agreed to fetch them some elf-made wine. Though neither sister knew the other was thinking the same, both were wondering why Snape hadn't simply served them the wine in the small liquor cabinet they both knew was in the room, hidden behind books. Perhaps it was to give Wormtail a task, to remind him of his place.

Neither had time to think on it much now.

When on their second drinks (dangerous for Bella, who rarely consumed alcohol because she was afraid it would cause her to lose control) Narcissa began to beg. Snape stopped her. He used his wand to get rid of eavesdropping Wormtail before imploring her to continue.

Narcissa tried again to explain why she'd come, but Bella interjected, furious that her sister was going to say anything to the loathsome Snape, a man she considered a traitor no matter what her lover – her Master – believed.

Bella didn't trust him. He knew this but asked her why anyway. She listed several reasons, none of which had anything to do with what had transpired between them the last time they were alone, and she even admitted that she thought the Dark Lord to be mistaken in His decision to trust Snape. This, of course, progressed to her demanding to know why he hadn't looked for the Dark Lord after his fall, which led to him goading her about having been no use to the Dark Lord while in Azkaban. It was a familiar back-and-forth between them, unbeknownst to Narcissa, who listened, silently fuming and panicking at once, as Bellatrix challenged Snape over and over and he responded exactly as she'd expect him to, until Snape said something that made Bella truly angry.

"My information has been conveyed directly to the Dark Lord," said Snape. "If He chooses not to share it with you…"

"He shares everything with me!" said Bellatrix, so infuriated she could feel heat radiating dangerously from her hands. "He calls me His most loyal, His most faithful…"

"Does he?" asked Snape, knowing his next words were likely to send her over the edge. "Does he _still_ , after the fiasco at the Ministry?"

He'd wounded her and he knew it. Narcissa chewed her lip and fought the urge twirl her hair. Her hands were still shaking too hard to risk unclasping them.

"That was not my fault!" insisted Bellatrix. "The Dark Lord has, in the past, entrusted me with His most precious… if Lucius hadn't…"

This was enough to make Narcissa speak up. "Don't you dare – don't you _dare_ blame my husband!"

She wanted them to stop, couldn't stand the fighting, couldn't stand any of it, but Bellatrix was not one to back down or let go, not ever. Finally Bella asked him why he hadn't killed Potter in all the years the boy had been at Hogwarts and Snape responded by asking whether she'd discussed this with the Dark Lord. Bella's face flushed. She didn't think anyone knew that she and their Master had been sleeping together since the night they'd met when she was seventeen, but the way he said it, the way he looked at her – she got the distinct impression he was aware that the Dark Lord had not had any special interest in her since the Ministry debacle. (He did continue to fuck her on occasion, and He was no longer confiding in her as He had during the First War. She would never admit it, but this rejection by her Master was more painful than a thousand Cruciatus Curses cast at once.)

"He… lately…" she stuttered. "I am asking _you_ , Snape!"

He answered, explaining yet again all about how he'd fooled Dumbledore thanks to the old man's desire to see the good in others, and though Bella remained unsatisfied she finally relented. He smiled slightly, considering her silence a triumph. He turned back to face the youngest Black sister.

"Now, you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?"

She tried to tell him, but as soon as she said the words "Lucius is in jail," she began to cry. She admitted that the Dark Lord had forbidden her to talk about what she was set to reveal.

"If the Dark Lord has forbidden it, you are not to speak." Behind Cissy, Bella lifted a glass knickknack from a bookshelf, turning it over in her hand. "Put it down, Bella," Snape admonished, without missing a beat. "We mustn't touch what isn't ours."

She scowled but returned the figurine to its place. Then Snape reminded her that the Dark Lord's word was law, which delighted Bellatrix. Finally they agreed on something! Maybe this would shut Narcissa up.

But no.

No, because Snape already knew about Draco's task.

"I thought you must know about it!" insisted Narcissa.

Bellatrix was less confident in this knowledge.

Snape assured them, however, that he could not change the Dark Lord's mind. And Narcissa, fearing he was right (and devastated that he wouldn't try) fell completely apart. Again. She held onto the front of his robes and sobbed, letting her tears wet his chest, and begged him to do it instead. She was in pain. She was in so much pain and it was killing him not to hold her and wipe her tears and perhaps even kiss her, to comfort her as he knew he shouldn't want to, because there was nothing between them – _nothing_. Not anymore. And there never should have been. So looking down into her tearstained face and assuring her that he assumed the Dark Lord intended for him to do the task eventually was all he could do, especially what with Bellatrix right there in the room. This was not enough, clearly, as Narcissa collapsed to the floor, sobbing harder.

"My only son," she moaned. "My only son!"

"You should be proud!" Bellatrix ruthlessly said, meaning it, having said it several times in the last three days. Yet again, she added, "If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!"

Narcissa let out a little scream as if being physically tortured. She grabbed at her long blonde hair, too upset even to twirl it. She was dying. This was death. Worse than death. The Dark Lord was set to steal her soul, like a Dementor. Her soul, of course, was embodied by her son, Draco. She let out a breath and her body went slack, too weak to continue fighting. That did it. Snape couldn't take it anymore. He lifted her by the arms, directed her back to the couch, thrust another glass of wine into her hand, and insisting she drink it even though her hands were still shaking so badly she spilled some.

"It might be possible," he said, wishing Bellatrix hadn't come with her so he could speak more candidly, "For me to help Draco."

He said he could try. He said he could try! Her heart leapt with hope for the first time since the Dark Lord assigned Draco his task. She knelt at Snape's feet and kissed the back of his hand, clutching it between her own. "Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?"

And that's what led to them, moments later, kneeling across from each other in his sitting room, linked together by their hands and by the thin wiry flames coming from bonder Bella's wand each time he agreed to part of the Vow.

"Thank you," Narcissa whispered when it was complete. She looked directly into his eyes, hoping he could read everything she wasn't saying, too. He gave no indication, however, that he regarded her as anything more than the wife of his friend, as he stood, said he had business to attend to, and would need to see to it.

"Thank you," she whispered again at the door. Bellatrix walked out first, haughty as ever. Narcissa, knowing she shouldn't, hung back, and hugged him briefly the moment her sister's back was turned. He did not return the hug. He couldn't. It was difficult enough being so close to her when they were kneeling and clasping hands. Again he wished Bella hadn't come along.

"Stop it," he mentally chastised himself. There was no reason to want to see Narcissa alone. She had made it clear she loved her husband. Their affair, if it could even be called that, had been a mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment brought on by feelings of inadequacy and loneliness, feelings he could relate to. And he'd made it clear that he wanted no more to do with her, that's why he'd left the note on her bedside table after the night they'd spent just sleeping.

But the way she looked at him over her shoulder before hurrying off after her sister… it was a way no woman had ever looked at him before. With appreciation. With gratitude.

With love.

"Damn it," he muttered, shutting the door behind them. What had he just done? Certainly he'd been planning to be the one to kill Dumbledore – he didn't like it, but they'd already had this discussion, and Dumbledore was adamant that it had to be him, as he didn't want to turn Draco into a murderer… or end up being Bella's next plaything – but to make the Unbreakable Vow? Why? Because Bella had laughed, challenging him? Or was it because of the way Narcissa looked with her eyes full of tears, hair in her face, kneeling on the floor, begging him?

He suspected it was as much the latter as the former, and this worried him.

He jotted down a note, hating himself for writing it, but simultaneously hating himself for hating himself. This one he sent to her by Owl.

 _I entered into that agreement with you and terminated it at your behest. I brewed that potion because you needed it. And I am doing as you requested in regards to that other matter. But this is_ _all_ _. I will grant you_ _no more favors_ _. I am done. - SS_

* * *

 **A/N:** As you probably noticed, I didn't change the dialogue from HP  & The Half-Blood Prince because it wouldn't have made sense to do so, but I did skip through some and also tried to put my own twist on the narration with more references to the things they've been through in this fic/these fics, so I hope it wasn't too dull to read! I also added one line from the movie, but generally stuck with the book, in which Narcissa is a lot more emotional/hysterical and Bellatrix is NOT the one to initially suggest the Unbreakable Vow. Also, I had to replace Chapter 5 because I stupidly had her taking the potion at the end of that one even thuogh he said he'd have it for her in two weeks. Oops! Fixed now. Anyway... Thanks again for reading! **AL**


	7. Halloween, 1996

**Chapter Seven – Halloween, 1996**

Draco's first attempt to complete his task went about as well as one would expect when a moderately talented teenager sets out to kill arguably the most powerful wizard ever to exist.

In other words, not well.

He did succeed in one thing, though: he managed the Imperius Curse, impressive as he and his Auntie Bella had only been able to practice it for two weeks before he left home for Hogwarts. He was also proving rather skilled at Legillimency, to Bella's great delight and to his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's complete annoyance.

Which is why Snape found himself standing at the door to Malfoy Manor on Halloween night, poised to knock, but finding he did not need to as the door opened.

"Oh! Severus!" Narcissa was clearly surprised to see him. He looked her over, unintentionally appraisingly. She looked good. She was wearing a long dark gray dress under an open black traveling cloak with a hood that covered her long blonde hair.

"Going out?" he asked. He shouldn't have come, not tonight. Typically, he spent Halloweens locked in the dungeons at Hogwarts, lamenting the loss of his Lily, acknowledging the date of her death by drinking himself sick, but for this he'd made an exception.

"I didn't want to be alone," she said quietly. "Come in."

"I don't want to intrude," he insisted. "Go out. Have fun." He turned to depart.

"No!" She grabbed a hold of his robes, turning back around to face her. "I was going to go to that seedy pub down on Knockturn Alley to drink. I'm alone because Bella and some of the others are off Muggle hunting. The Dark Lord let her have a little fun last month with Helen Abbott, but says for now His followers should be more careful about whom they… take out."

Snape knew Narcissa was referring to the murder of the mother of Hogwarts student Hannah Abbott. He had been present when McGonagall informed those in the staff room that the girl would be removed from Herbology to receive the news and would therefore likely not be returning to school for awhile. Though Narcissa spoke quite casually, Snape could tell she was bothered by the notion that her sister was again out killing for sport.

"I am here to speak with both you and the Dark Lord," said Snape, emotionless. "Separately, preferably. It's about Draco."

"Is he alright?"

"He is. May I come in?"

"Of course," she said, opening the door wider. "He's on the third floor, as usual."

"Where will you be when I am through?" he asked before heading upstairs to the Dark Lord's current chambers. He hoped she wouldn't answer 'the bedroom.'

But he also sort of hoped she would.

"In the kitchen," she said. He nodded as if this made no difference to him. "I'm getting better. I made shepherd's pie earlier today. Would you like some? I'll heat it up."

Without waiting for an answer, she slipped off her traveling cloak and hurried off toward the kitchen. He considered telling her not to bother, but since he'd missed dinner at Hogwarts earlier and was actually quite famished he found himself looking forward to a hot meal.

While Snape was explaining Draco's recent failure to the Dark Lord, Narcissa popped the shepherd's pie back in the oven, hoping the minced lamb wouldn't be too dry. While Snape was assuring the Dark Lord that Draco had actually done quite well in regards to using the Imperius Curse in his attempt, Narcissa hurried to make the kitchen look a little more presentable by placing candles in the center atop an emerald green tablecloth. While Snape was bidding goodnight to the Dark Lord, Narcissa was moving the pie from the oven, dishing it onto the good white china, a wedding gift from Mother. She could hear his footsteps echoing down the hall as she poured them each a glass of red wine and added cloth napkins and silverware to the table. She ordered her brain to suppress the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was only shepherd's pie, after all. Even if it wasn't perfect, she couldn't have screwed it up _that_ badly.

"Hello," he said somewhat awkwardly as he entered. Before Easter, he would have kissed her hand or her cheek in greeting, the way men often did to their friend's wives, but considering all that had transpired since he thought best to keep his distance.

"I think it's one of my best attempts thus far," she said, placing a plate in front of the set place at the table. He sat down. Setting down her own plate, she sat across from him.

He took a bite. She stared at him, unblinking, awaiting his approval.

"Well?" she asked, as soon as he'd swallowed.

"It's great!" he assured her.

"Really?"

"Erm, well… it's good," he said, feeling as though her follow-up had pushed him into giving a more honest answer. "But very good! Much better than I could do."

Now she took a bite. The lamb wasn't perfect, but the potatoes and vegetables were, and she thought she'd done a fine job, especially considering some of her other recent attempts in the kitchen.

"How have you been?" he asked between his third and fourth bites. She had already consumed half her glass of wine.

"About as well as can be expected. How's Draco?"

Snape sighed, setting his fork down. "He won't talk to me. He thinks I'm trying to steal his glory, that my attempts to offer assistance are merely masking a desire to do it myself. He can be as strong-willed and supercilious as your sister…"

"Speaking of sisters…" Narcissa's steel-gray eyes shifted from his face to her wine glass. It was Andromeda who'd first turned her onto wine, when they were fifth and seventh years at Hogwarts. Andromeda said red wine was the drink of those with class. Bellatrix said all liquor was the drink of those who sought liquid confidence but lacked Felix Felicis.

"Yes?" prodded Snape.

"Andromeda. Do you ever see her? I know that the Dark Lord has you spy on the Order. Is she a member? She stayed out of it during the First War. I always suspected it was because she wasn't entirely against what the Dark Lord was doing. She grew up same as Bella and I, with the same ideals and the same views of Muggle-borns. But with her daughter working as an Auror now…"

"As far as I am aware, Andromeda is still choosing to stay out of things, thought I doubt very much that she in any way supports the Dark Lord. She and her husband are still married, after all, and I imagine being on opposites sides in that regard would put quite the kink in any relationship between a pureblood and a Muggle-born."

Narcissa shrugged, returning her attention to her plate. "I was just wondering."

He fixed his gaze on her downcast eyes, studying her expression before asking, "Do you miss her?"

She glanced up as if startled, or afraid someone would overhear. Finally she whispered, "Sometimes, yes."

As Narcissa poured them each a second glass of wine, Snape turned the subject to her husband, asking if she'd been able to communicate with Lucius in any way.

"No, unfortunately." She handed him back his glass. "I've heard nothing, which is awful. I miss him terribly. I've loved him so much for so long. It hasn't stopped being difficult when I wake up every morning to see that he's not there. I've had dreams about him breaking out and returning to me. Waking up on those mornings is even harder. The dreams, they seem so real, so when I open my eyes and find they're not… it hurts all over again."

"I've never seen your hair like that before," he responded, surprising her by the change in subject.

"My hair?"

It was plaited into a long braid that fell halfway down her back. She hadn't realized until that morning just how long it was getting. She hadn't colored or charmed out the gray since Lucius had been arrested either, which meant she now had about half an inch of silvery roots showing. She smoothed it back, feeling self-conscious, but he smiled.

"I like it," he assured her. "It's… pretty."

"I like it when you tell me I'm pretty," she replied, and for a dangerous moment they simply made eye contact, not speaking, both longing for what they'd had but knowing what they had shouldn't have been anything at all.

"You're holding up alright, though?" he asked with concern. "After… after taking that potion. I assume any side effects were mild?"

She nodded and bit her lip, thinking on what she was going to say, to make sure it came out exactly as she wanted to, as he took the last three bites of his shepherd's pie.

"I love Lucius," she began. He nodded, not looking up, having heard this before. "But I've thought of you so frequently since… since that last night. I hate how it ended between us."

"That's the beauty of an emotionless affair," said Snape, his voice silky and low, which made Narcissa shiver. "There doesn't need to be a big ending. When it's over, it simply… ends."

"That's the trouble, then, isn't it?" She rose, taking her plate and his, and placing them in the sink for the house elves to see to later. She did the same with their wine glasses, but actually took the time to rinse them out, only because it meant she didn't have to face him as she spoke. "Perhaps I'm not certain I was right in wanting it to end."

He was still sitting motionless at the table, divided between the desire to sweep her in his arms and the knowledge that he should remind her they had tread dangerous ground for too long and were better off as physically distant friends when she turned around, pressing her back against the sink, and regarded him with a twinge of fire in her eyes.

"You don't feel the same?"

He could tell she was hurt, though she hid it well.

"It isn't that, Narcissa." He rose and made his way to her, but kept close to the table so that, while they were facing each other, they were not near enough to touch. "You love your husband, don't you?"

"I do."

"And you felt terribly guilty about screwing around on him, knowing where he was."

"I did." She began chewing her lip again, which took off a little of her red lipstick, but as she did so she puffed out her chest a little, not in a flirtatious way, but as if to say that she was too proud to ask Snape for anything and didn't much care whether he missed being with her or not. It was a very Bellatrix-like pose.

"So it puzzles me that you would even bring this up when I think you'll know what I'll say." He took her hand, still at a distance, and kissed the back of it. "Thank you for dinner."

He started to release her but she grasped his hand in hers. "Why not? Is it that you don't want me?"

Damn it.

She was giving him that look again, the one in which she tilted her chin down and looked up at him with her eyes, that look that made her appear vulnerable and seductive all at once and drove him crazy. He wondered if she realized that look drove him crazy.

"Don't be ridiculous." Again he tried to pull his hand away but she held on.

"So you _do_ want me?"

"The Dark Lord is right upstairs, Narcissa."

"Do you want me, Severus, or don't you?"

He couldn't answer. Not honestly. Not if he wanted to leave without getting back into something he wasn't sure he could get out of. "Your sister could be back at any moment."

"You wanted me before, didn't you? Or did you have me only have me out of pity?"

"Stop it."

"Is it that you wanted me before and don't now, or that you never wanted me at all?" She was hurt, sure, but she wasn't asking for clarification to mend injured feelings. This was almost foreplay for her, forcing him into admitting what he didn't think he could, or should. "I simply want to know, for my own piece of mind."

"That's not why you want to know," he growled, finally yanking his hand away. She drew hers back, holding it with the other against her chest, almost as if stricken. "Fuck," he swore. He took a step toward her. "Trust me, Narcissa, when I assure you that _wanting_ you was never an issue."

"So you _did_ want me?" she asked, her voice so soft he almost couldn't hear her.

"I did, yes."

"And now?"

He took another step toward her. She had her back against the sink for reasons of necessity now – there was nowhere else to go. He was too close.

"And now?" he echoed.

"Yes. You said wanting me was never an issue." She slipped her right hand into his left one and whispered, "Do you want me now?"

He put his arms around her waist, which pinned her right hand, still in his left, uncomfortably between her lower back and the sink. They were flush against each other, too close to be safe, especially in a common area of the house.

"Of course I want you now," he said. "I want you all the fucking time."

"Then have me," she whispered. "Take me, claim me. I want you to."

Unable to form further words, he groaned, pressed his body more forcefully against hers, reached up with the hand not holding her hand, and grabbed hold of her braid, pulling her head back. Roughly, he kissed her, not giving up his grasp on her hair. She moaned and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. He even nipped lightly at her lip, which elicited from her a breathy sound somewhere between a sigh and a whimper.

"We could be in my bedroom in thirty-five seconds," she said, when his lips moved to her neck. "No one would know."

"No," he said. He removed his wand from his pocket, ensured the kitchen door was locked, cast Muffliato on the room, and lifted her up. She clung to him, digging her nails into his shoulder, which he could feel even through the material of his thick black robe.

He set her on the kitchen table, parted her knees with his leg, and resumed kissing her.

"Here?" she asked, still with her arms around him, as his hand made its way past her knee, to her thigh, to her hip, all under her dress, which he now moved to lift over her head.

"I'll even put out the lights," he said, waving his wand again. It went dark in the kitchen as the only light streaming in was from the Halloween moon through the window.

She let him undress her nearly completely, down to a slip that was even sheerer than the negligee she'd once worn under her dress at his home in Spinner's End. He removed her underwear and bra without divesting her of the slip, which she appreciated, as she unbuttoned the ten-thousand buttons (or so it seemed) on the front of his robe. Unlike her, he had no qualms about being seen without clothing.

His hands explored her as hers roamed over him. She sucked hard on his neck, knowing full well she would leave a mark, and begged him to do it, to do it now, she was ready.

She cried out when he entered her, and he could only grunt in response as he began thrusting, unable to take it more slowly. As he fucked her and she kissed him he reached up and pulled the ribbon from the bottom of her braid, then ran his fingers through it, causing her hair to cascade around them in light waves still damp from her morning shower.

"Harder," she murmured. "Severus, please…"

Without a word, he obliged. She closed her eyes, lost in the sensation of him. His were closed too, his face buried in her hair.

It was at this point she remember she hadn't been brewing that birth control potion and would therefore have nothing to take once they were done. "I … you can't… don't finish…" she panted.

"What?"

"Don't finish… like this… I don't… have… any potion…"

He swore, slowing down, contemplating what to do.

"Sit," she said, deciding for him. "Sit in the chair." Somewhat confused, he did as he was told, moving away from her to sit in the chair. She slipped down off the table and knelt on the floor, positioning herself between his knees. "Is this okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, she took him in her mouth.

This was one of those things Lucius did not like. He felt it was degrading for his wife to perform such an act on him… though he gladly sought it from other women. Narcissa always wondered if she was just plain terrible at it, and if that's the real reason he would usually tell her no, but judging by the way Snape was reacting, with his hand entangled in her hair, his head back, eyes closed, moaning, maybe she was better than she'd thought. Maybe it really was Lucius' problem, not hers. She used her hand and her mouth and could tell he was close.

"Fuck… yes… now…" he said when he was on the edge, but she didn't stop, not until he was completely satisfied.

"Damn, Narcissa," he said once he'd caught his breath. He guided her up from the floor, gathering her in his arms as she positioned herself on his lap.

"That was alright?" she asked.

In response, he kissed her shoulder, holding her close.

Yes, it was alright. 

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews Responses - Thanks to all who have read, reviewed, favorited, followed, and/or PMed me!  
Everything Hurts - haha, yes I got that. Lovett. I was actually listening to Sweeney Todd while writing this, too!  
Popular Cats - Hope this chapter makes up for any sadness!  
Harry Hobbit - I did see you review on the Bella fic. Thanks for reading it again! I'm glad you're still liking this fic even though it's not your usual ship. :)  
Vani12 - Thank you, that's such an amazing and nice review! I appreciate it.  
Palerebelforever - Thanks for reading! I hope you are still enjoying this fic.  
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Hello - Thanks, glad you like this ship!


	8. Christmas Eve, 1996

**Chapter Eight – Christmas Eve, 1996**

Draco, still focused intently on his task, did not come home for Christmas either. With Lucius still in prison and Bellatrix spending literally all of her free time locked away with the Dark Lord, this left Narcissa alone, again. Though she was getting used to solitary life, she knew it would feel much lonelier on the holiday than usual, which is why, one week before Christmas, she sent an Owl to Severus Snape, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts.

 _Christmas Eve, Spinner's End? –NM_

She anxiously awaited his reply, which arrived just in time the morning of December 24th.

 _Apparate to the doorstep at exactly 7PM. –SS_

"What are your plans for tonight?" asked Bella while they ate lunch together in the dining room. Narcissa had made it herself – bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches, which Bella said tasted good... though she also joked, "This bacon is blacker than my soul."

"I got distracted," said Narcissa defensively. "Wormtail was at the door. I stepped out to answer it and…"

"It's fine," Bella assured her. "I like it crispy. So, tonight?"

Narcissa pretended she hadn't heard her sister. She added milk to her coffee and stirred it.

"Cissy? I've already asked you twice, what are you doing tonight?"

"I don't know," answered Narcissa, unable to continue to ignore. "I may go out. I may stay home. Did you want to do something together?"

"Sorry," answered Bella, pouring milk into her own coffee. "I have plans."

"Of course," said Narcissa. "I was considering going to Hogwarts, to see Draco."

Bellatrix rolled her heavy-lidded eyes. "Please, Cissy. Quit babying him. He will be fine. I've taught him well."

"Yes, you have," Narcissa agreed, surprising her sister. "If he does succeed, I suppose it will be entirely due to your efforts over the fifteen days during which you worked with him before he returned to school and not at all because of anything Lucius or I have done over the sixteen years of his life that preceded it."

Bellatrix stuck her tongue out at Narcissa. Now it was Cissy's turn to roll her eyes.

"Very mature, Bella."

"You know I adore you," said Bella, who stood, leaving her plate for the house elves to clear. She kissed the top of Narcissa's head. "But you can be positively maddening, you know that?"

"I love you, too."

"Your hair looks awful," added Bella, tugging at it in her affectionate way. "Get rid of the gray. It makes you look old."

"Thanks for the advice." Narcissa said this coolly, but inwardly she made a mental note to fix that before heading out to meet Snape later. She didn't want him to think she looked old, especially because she already had nearly five years on him, putting her at nearly forty-two while he was still a few weeks away from thirty-seven, something she was already self-conscious about.

"Cissy? Do you think _I_ look okay?"

Narcissa furrowed her brow, perplexed. Bellatrix never asked her sister questions like that. For one, she was vain enough to be confident in her looks, and for another, she detested any perceived vulnerability that would come wrapped in such a question. But since Bella had asked, Narcissa looked her over discerningly, prepared to answer truthfully.

Bellatrix was wearing her usual style black dress, long-sleeved but with cutouts on the shoulders, revealing (on the right) a bruise that looked to be from a bite mark, plus plain black boots with a small heel. Her wild hair was pulled half back, framing her face in a tangle of curls, and she wore no makeup.

"You look fine. Why?"

"I don't want to look fine. I want to look… good. I've gained a lot of weight since I got out of Azkaban, don't you think?"

"I think you looked sickly when you got out of Azkaban," said Narcissa honestly. "You've gained a little weight, but you needed to. Now you look just like you did before."

This wasn't entirely true. Some of Azkaban's effects could not be undone, like the toll it took on Bella's teeth, and the circles that permanently remained under her eyes, but overall she looked better. Her nails were no longer brittle and broken, her hair had gotten back its body and luster, and she had a shape again.

"You've always been better looking than I am," said Bella, surprising her sister for a second time. "You're as fair as I am dark, your waist is about the size of my arm, and I've always been envious of your eyes. Mine are so dark they're colorless, like ink, and I always look tired. Yours are like silver and your eyelashes are longer."

"I… thank you," said Narcissa, sitting up a little straighter. "But you know I think you're beautiful… and so does every man you've ever met. What's brought this on?"

Bella was suddenly very interested in her nail polish, chipping away at it, avoiding eye contact. "Nothing." She added arrogantly, "I _know_ men find me beautiful, they always have."

"Then why ask?"

"I wasn't asking what _men_ think, Cissy. I was asking what _you_ think."

"Why do you care?"

"I don't." Bella crossed her arms defiantly across her chest, as if daring her sister to challenge this statement. Not in the mood for an argument, Narcissa shook her head.

"You're beautiful and you know it, Bella. I'll see you tomorrow morning. I'm sure you have plans tonight that are far more interesting than mine."

"Oh yeah?" Bella seemed challenged by this notion too, moving one hand to her hip. "What are yours?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes, stood, and mirrored her sister with one hand on her hip. "I plan to color my hair," she said with a hint of sarcasm. Bellatrix laughed.

"Thanks for lunch." With a smile, Bella flipped her own hair and exited.

Still slightly confused over their conversation, Narcissa left the dining room mere moments later, heading to the bathroom off her bedroom. Using the Muggle dye she kept hidden under the sink, she colored out the gray from her roots. She could have used a charm to hide them instead, but those tended to wear off, sometimes quite suddenly, so she found it was simply easier to exchange a couple of galleons for pounds, slip into the Muggle world, purchase a box of what she needed, mix it up (a bit like making a potion) and use that instead. Without Lucius around to tell her doing so annoyed him, she felt more at ease than she had the last time she'd done it. Once it was time to rinse she took a shower, then carefully selected her attire for the evening – a floor-length, form-fitting burgundy dress that showed off her pale shoulders. Though she usually wore at least a half-slip under her dresses, tonight she had on only a black lace bra with soft padding that gave the appearance she had a little more to fill it with than she actually did. As she pulled up on the zipper on the side of the dress, she felt butterflies flutter inside her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done this – gotten ready for a date – and was caught between feeling excitement and guilt, as her meetings with him often brought on. Tonight, though, she was leaning more toward excitement.

She'd seen Snape only twice since Halloween, and the second of those times they'd barely managed to kiss each other hello before being interrupted by her sister and the Dark Lord, so it had been a month since their last tryst, and in that time they'd exchanged many Owls with little messages that wouldn't mean much to anyone else if they were intercepted, but were absolutely a form of foreplay for them, consisting only of words they'd already spoken to each other, but sans context.

 _I offer you everything. –NM_

 _Soon. –SS_

 _There's a zipper in the back. –NM_

 _Exquisite. –SS_

 _Do you… or don't you? – NM_

 _That was never the issue. –SS_

 _Here? -NM_

 _I'll put out the lights. –SS_

 _Sit. Is this okay? –NM_

 _Damn. -SS_

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed. It was six exactly. She had one hour to finish getting ready and go. She would not be late.

Looking herself over in the mirror, she affixed her sterling silver brooch to the front of her dress, the one adorned with rubies and emeralds, which she purchased before the first time she met Snape at Spinner's End. She then slipped her small, delicate feet into strappy heels, not practical considering the snow, but since she planned to apparate straight to his doorstop she figured it would be alright.

Now to do her makeup. She selected a lip color that was darker than usual, to match the burgundy of her dress, which was offset in a lovely way by her pale complexion and white-blonde hair. What to do with her hair? He seemed to like it held back, so she pulled it into a loose French braid, afraid a tight one would look too severe. She traced her upper eyelids in off-black eyeliner, none on the bottom and no eye shadow, then applied noir mascara to her long lashes, which Bella apparently envied.

She stared at her reflection, trying to see herself as if she were someone else. Did she look old? Would she look over forty to him? Was that something that mattered?

After all, he _had_ said (and later written) that wanting her was never an issue. "I want you all the fucking time," he'd said.

She wanted to believe him, she truly did.

But could she?

"Cissy?" Bella opened the bedroom door, which Narcissa had forgotten to lock, and stepped inside. "Wow, you look… are you going somewhere?"

"Yes," answered Narcissa, standing and smoothing out her dress. "I don't want to spend Christmas Eve cooped up inside, so I'm going out."

Bella narrowed her dark eyes. "To see Draco?"

"To see a friend."

"That dress is a little low cut to wear for one of your friends."

Narcissa took in a sharp breath, but before she could come up with a lie Bella put a finger to her lips.

"You don't have to tell me the details, but I sincerely hope you're having an affair, little sister. I hope you're seeing someone so much better than your loser husband and I hope he's a great fuck and I hope you enjoy it."

Narcissa's pale face went even whiter. "Bella! I love Lucius."

"Of course you do, Cissy." Bellatrix gave her sister's shoulders a squeeze. "And Lucius loves you. But Lucius _also_ loves stepping out on you. You know it and I know it and most everyone we know knows it so I hope you're doing the same to him and honestly, I hope he knows it." She grinned wickedly, picturing him in his cell in Azkaban, a place she knew all too well herself. "So I won't ask for details because it's not any of my business, I just stopped in because I want to borrow a bra from you. I only have two at the moment and neither is… all that impressive. Do you mind?"

Narcissa, still too surprised to string together multiple words in an attempt to utter a sentence, nodded.

"Thanks!" Without needing to ask where they were kept, Bella opened the top right drawer of Narcissa's dresser and began rummaging through.

"Your chest is bigger than mine," Narcissa said, finally finding her voice.

"That's alright," said Bella with a shrug, figuring if necessary she might be able to tranfigure it to fit, though those sorts of spells weren't her forte. "I don't expect to wear it long."

"Here," said Narcissa, trying not to think about what her sister had just said. "This is from after I had Draco…" At the bottom of the drawer was a silky green one she'd bought in an attempt to appeal to Lucius when Draco was about a year old. Her husband had just entered into his first affair since the birth of their son (as far as she knew). She kept it because it had worked – at least temporarily – to keep him at home, but she hadn't been able to fill it out in years.

"Thanks, love." Bella tugged Narcissa's hair, kissed her on the temple, and waved goodbye. She apparated from the room with a pop, despite the disapparition jinxes Narcissa placed around Malfoy Manor that were supposed to prevent against exactly that.

Narcissa checked the time again. Six-thirty. Her stomach fluttered wildly. Now it didn't feel as though she had butterflies. It felt like she'd swallowed a dozen angry hummingbirds.

Twenty-five minutes later, she left her home and walked to the edge of the anti-apparition wards, mentally cursing herself for not asking Bella how she'd managed to get around them. She usually wouldn't have been able to apparate directly to Snape's doorstep, but she was confident his Owl message meant he had arranged for him to lift his protective wards at 6:59, so she'd be able to arrive promptly at seven.

Which she did.

He opened the door before she could knock and welcomed her inside, replacing the protective wards and jinxes as she headed into the sitting room.

"What's this?" She picked up an orange rectangle from the couch, which turned out to be a hardcover book with black letters embossed on it. She turned it over to read the title. "Murder on the Orient Express, Agatha Christie."

He took it from her, a bit embarrassed. "It's a book."

"You're kidding? I would've guessed it was a Petrified peacock." Shooting him a teasing look, she took it back and opened to the first page. "What's it about?"

He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she read the first paragraph. "Agatha Christie is a Muggle mystery author that my father's mother liked. When she passed, she left me her collection. I received them on December 24th, 1968 and read one that night. I've read one more each Christmas Eve since. It was a terrible Christmas, that first year without her. She'd been the only one…" He let his voice trail off, running his fingers nervously through his hair, mentally admonishing himself for being ridiculous. Who cared what Narcissa thought of his little habit? It isn't as if she were anything more than the wife of his friend, mother of his godson, and… whatever a man would call someone with whom he is having a completely emotion-free affair.

So why did he feel like he was awaiting her approval?

"I've never read a mystery," said Narcissa, handing the book back to him. "We weren't allowed to have Muggle literature at home when I was growing up. Bella was a voracious reader. She would hole up in our room for hours under a pile of books, reading everything from Magical Theory to romance to textbooks to plays, all written by witches and wizards, of course. But beyond Beetle the Bard and what we needed to read for school, Andromeda and I never like to read…" She placed her hand on top of his, insisting defensively, "It's not that we're not smart!"

"I wouldn't think for a moment that you're not smart," he said. He placed the book on the end table, front cover side down. He was facing away from her. When he did not turn back, she stepped toward him and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his back. He moved his hands to cover hers.

"You didn't kiss me hello," she said quietly. He closed his eyes, thinking. He'd thought about kissing her hello, but that seemed like the sort of thing one does with a woman one is dating, not the sort of thing one does with a woman to whom he's trying to avoid becoming attached.

"Why must I always make the first move?" he asked, deflecting. "You could have kissed me hello."

"You're the man," she said simply, but she did place a quick kiss on his shoulder before moving to stand in front of him. "If _I_ made the first move, you might think I'm easy."

There was an awkward pause before they both couldn't help but laugh, breaking any residual tension. She untied her traveling cloak and slung it over the back of the couch. Though he tried not to be obvious about it, he looked her over, enjoying the site of her in that low-cut burgundy dress… envisioning taking it off of her later.

"You should read to me," she said, settling herself comfortably on the couch. "I want to know what a Muggle mystery is. How do they solve anything without magic?"

"I made dinner," he said, wanting her to forget Agatha Christie. "It's not shepherd's pie, but I think it will do."

"You still haven't kissed me."

"No," he said, "And I won't. It's archaic to believe the man needs to make the first move. We're a week away from 1997, Narcissa, not 1945."

"You're teasing me," she pouted, but she rose and followed him to the kitchen.

He had made a stew with meat and vegetables and bread on the side. It was good. Probably better than what she could have made given the same ingredients, but she didn't hold that against him. During dinner they talked. First about Draco, as usual.

"He's not doing well," said Snape. "He's nervous, consumed by the task. His grades have suffered, he's no longer interested in Quidditch…"

"Can you blame him?" asked Narcissa. "I'm nervous. The only thing that keeps me going is… the only thing that keeps me sane is… our… little… distraction."

"I offered again to assist him, to no avail."

"Did I tell you that we ran into Potter and his friends over the summer at Madam Malkin's? It was a week after…" She was going to say, 'A week after I took the abortion potion,' but quickly amended this to, "A week after the Dark Lord assigned His task, days after Bella and I came to see you here."

"After Draco received the Dark Mark?" asked Snape. Narcissa's eyes opened wider.

"He told you?" she whispered. "We weren't supposed to tell anybody."

"I'm impressed that you managed to keep it from me, honestly," answered Snape, knowing she wasn't the best with a secret, as he dipped his bread into the stew. "As it happens, your sister was the one unable to keep her mouth shut about it. Shortly after the Dark Lord disapparated from a meeting for those in His inner circle, she began pestering me with questions about Draco and if I knew whether he was making progress with the repair, but she wouldn't tell me to what she was referring beyond that minuscule detail. I assured her I knew nothing. We argued –"

"That's a shock," Narcissa interjected sarcastically.

"And when I told her I didn't think Draco would be able to manage, she told me the Dark Lord wouldn't have Marked him if He didn't think there was a chance."

"He's the youngest ever," said Narcissa, but she sounded depressed, not proud.

"I am aware. So, you were saying? You saw Potter and friends at Robes for All Occasions?"

"Oh! Yes. Well. This was my first real interaction with the so-called Boy-Who-Lived and to be perfectly candid, I think he's a prick."

Snape smirked. "As was his father. But tell me why you think so."

"Draco was getting fitted for this dark green dress robe that looked lovely on him – I mean, handsome, not lovely – when _they_ entered. My Draco said a Mudblood had just walked in and I knew it must be her, the one everyone talks about, the brains of their little three-part operation."

"I will say this for Miss Granger," said Snape, his voice steady and without inflection, "Though she is without a doubt one of the most insufferable students I have ever had the displeasure of teaching, she truly _is_ the cleverest witch Hogwarts has seen in many years. Perhaps even since Minerva McGonagall. It's a shame she's Muggle-born."

"That is a shame," agreed Narcissa genuinely. "Madam Malkin didn't care for Draco calling the girl a Mudblood, though she also scolded the boys for drawing their wands. I informed them that if they were to attack my son again, I would ensure that it would be the last thing they'd ever do, thus I suggested they put their wands away. Potter asked if I intended to have a few of my Death Eater pals do him in, and Severus, I was dying to suggest he become better acquainted with my sister. I wish she'd been there, but I had to remain calm, I even smiled at him. It took a remarkable bit of self-control."

"What then?" asked Snape, completely engrossed, picturing this interaction. His bread had sopped up so much stew it fell apart in his bowl.

"I said, 'I see being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you.' I didn't give anything away! I didn't say a word about Draco's task, but it was in the back of my mind, I assure you. Then he decided to get a bit cheeky with me, but in a nasty way, pointing out that Dumbledore wasn't around in that moment, and challenging me to have a go at him. I wish I could have. I wasn't in the best mood to begin with, Severus. I'd been bleeding steadily for eight days from that potion, my back was sore, I missed my husband, your note rather wounded me, and, well… I wasn't looking forward to sending Draco back to school, knowing what he'd have to do."

Snape ignored the twinge of guilt at having contributed to her pain, both physical and emotional, and implored her to continue with the story.

"Then the obnoxious brat suggested they might be able to find a double cell in Azkaban for me to share with Lucius. I believe he called Lucius, 'your loser of a husband.' I was livid. Still, I had to continue remaining calm, and keep Draco calm at the same time. So I simply held onto my son's shoulder, looked the boy square in the eye, and said, 'I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius.' That certainly stung him. He raised his wand to me again, but that Mudblood scum stopped him from doing anything stupid."

Snape bristled slightly at her use of the word Mudblood, which dripped from her tongue as carelessly and casually as if she were saying 'meat pie' or 'monsoon,' but he did not comment on it.

"Draco no longer wanted the robes, so we went elsewhere, which quite frankly was too bad because Twillfit and Tattings doesn't have nearly as nice a selection, but what choice did we have?"

"He's not a smart boy," said Snape is his usual drawl. "Potter, I mean. He's impulsive, headstrong, arrogant… what did you call him?"

"Obnoxious?"

"Not that."

"A brat?"

"Not that either."

"A prick?"

Snape grinned. "Yes. That was it. He's a prick. Just like his father was."

"You hated him even when you were in school together?"

Snape's expression darkened. "He was a bully who got away with everything."

And, without going into too much unnecessary detail, Snape relayed to Narcissa the realities of his time at Hogwarts, constantly tormented by Potter, Sirius Black, and their gang, including how their prank nearly got him killed by Lupin in werewolf form, but noted how embarrassing it was to share.

"Embarrassing? No, it's criminal! What they did ought to have warrant an actual punishment. At the very least, they should have been expelled!" She said when he'd finished, slamming her hand on the table, her dinner also forgotten. "McGonagall was their Head of House. What did she do about them?"

"Not enough," he said. "She's apologized since, more than once, but…"

"But you cannot undo what has been done with an 'I'm sorry,'" finished Narcissa for him. She rose from her chair and moved to his side. "That said, _I'm_ sorry you had to endure such pain." She placed her hand under his chin, tipped his face up, and kissed him. He let the kiss grow in intensity for only a few seconds before pulling away.

"You made the first move," he said, pulling her to sit in his lap. "Now I'm going to think you're easy."

She slapped his chest, then tried to stand up, but his grip was firm.

"Severus!" She giggled as he kissed her again, this time on her neck. "Unhand me."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll hex you into oblivion!" She pulled her wand down from her sleeve and poked its tip directly into his chest. "Don't think I won't. I come from a long line of witches and wizards willing to attack half-bloods without sufficient cause."

"I don't think you have the talent to attack me," teased Severus, pinching her side. "I heard you were only in the Slug Club because you were pretty."

"I'm still pretty," she said. She slid her wand back up into her sleeve and moved her her lips so close to his they were almost kissing. "Don't you think I'm pretty?"

"Yes," he confessed. "Too pretty for a hook-nosed potions master with a perpetual frown."

"See, and here I would've described you as a well-endowed Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor with a voice smoother than silk."

He grinned devilishly. "Your first descriptor would be 'well-endowed'?"

She shrugged and finally he released his grip so she could stand, stepping away from him. "Yes, but to be fair, I haven't much to compare you to, so what do I know?"

He shook his head, still smiling, and used a levitation spell to send their dishes to the sink. "And here you were almost so nice, Narcissa. A shame you couldn't keep it up."

"What can I say? I'm not nice. I'm a bitch. Good thing that isn't a crime or I'd be sharing a double cell with my loser of a husband in Azkaban."

Snape stood too. He wrapped his arms around Narcissa from behind, the way she had done to him, and kissed her gently on the temple, a gesture almost too intimate for a pair set against becoming emotionally involved.

"Don't let Potter's words bother you."

"I won't."

"But they do."

She sighed. "They do."

"I let the things your cousin used to say bother me for many, many years. I let him and Potter's father goad me into doing… saying… terrible things, things I later regretted but couldn't take back. Now Potter is dead, Sirius is dead, Wormtail is a traitor, and Lupin –"

"He'll forever be a werewolf," she supplied. He nodded.

"What they said doesn't matter now, and I wish I'd realized it didn't need to matter then, just as what the boy said to you is meaningless. He said what he thought would hurt. Don't let him be right. Don't let him win."

"Bella agrees with him," Narcissa said, leaning back against Snape, content with his arms wrapped protectively around her. "She thinks Lucius is a loser too. She blames him for what happened in the Department of Mysteries. She thinks I'm having an affair."

"Wait, what?" Snape spun her around so they were facing each other.

"She thinks I'm having an affair. She's happy about it. She hopes Lucius knows."

Snape didn't know how to respond to this. There were a great many things plaguing his mind at the moment; he didn't need worry over whether Bellatrix would peg him as Narcissa's casual sex partner to be one of them.

"Don't worry, darling," said Narcissa, tucking his hair behind his ear, then stroking his cheek with her thumb. "She won't find out. She doesn't even want to know."

He wanted to tell her not to call him darling, but instead he kissed her palm and moved her hand away from his face. "I bought you a gift," he said, changing the subject. "For Christmas."

"You did?" Her face broke into a grin. "A present? I love presents!"

"It's nothing fancy," he assured her. He fingered the brooch on her chest. "Not like this. But I hope you'll like it."

"I'll like it because it's from you," she said, and yet again he was nagged by the feeling that they were forgetting the _only physical, not emotional – no romance, no attachment_ part of their verbal contract.

"It's in my bedroom," he said. "I'll…" He was about to suggest he run up and get it when she cut in.

"Good. I was planning for us to end up in your bedroom anyway."

Suppressing that nagging feeling, he swept her into his arms, to carry her the way he had the very first time, when she'd been to see him in the dungeons at Hogwarts. He carried her up the stairs and into the first bedroom on the left, which had been a guest room when he was a child, and was therefore the only one he could stand sleeping in as an adult. He kept the door to his parents' room locked and let Wormtail have his childhood bedroom over the summer.

He tossed her onto the queen-sized bed. She giggled, which made him smile. He went to his wardrobe, which was heavy, oak, and pushed into the corner of the room near the only window. From inside it he removed a large book, wrapped in parchment. She was kneeling in the center of the bed, twirling her hair, when he sat on the edge, handing it to her.

"It's a book," she said.

"No," he said sardonically. "It's a Petrified peacock."

She stuck her tongue out at him for his quip and set to unwrapping. "It's a cookbook!"

"It starts with beginner recipes and gets increasingly difficult. The last chapter is about seven course gourmet meals. But this is what makes it special…" He tapped the cover, saying, " _C'est Finis_." The words  COOKING FROM BEGINNER TO EXPERT disappeared, replaced by Primates and Predators: The Wizarding World's Most Aggressive Apes, from A-Z. "If anyone else tries to read it, this is what they'll see. When you want to see the actual content, you simply tap it with your wand and say, " _Bon Appetit_ ," and…" The cookbook covered reappeared.

"I love it!" she exclaimed. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. "You're very thoughtful, Severus. Thank you. Would you like to see what I brought for you? I made it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is it edible?"

"No, but it's protected from the eyes of others very similarly to this cookbook." She pulled from the small pocket of her dress two tiny bound notebooks, each about four inches by two, filled with parchment paper. "Do you have a quill?"

"On the desk." He gestured to the far side of the room, opposite the wardrobe. She handed him one of the notebooks, taking the other to the desk.

"Turn to page one."

He did. "It's blank."

"Is it? Look closely."

He looked closely. "Yes, it's blank."

She picked up the quill from the desk, dipped it in the ink, and wrote on the first page of her notebook. While nothing showed up in hers, across the room he could now read her message.

 _"_ _I want you to ravage me."_

"I… Narcissa…"

"I used a modified Protean charm. Draco asked me to teach him how to do one before he left for school. It seems that Mudblood girl used one to communicate to Potter's little army using numbers on coins last year. It took me some figuring, but I have been able to work it so if I write to you, the word appear only in your notebook, and if you respond, they appear in mine. Once you've opened the book, the words only remain for one minute before disappearing entirely. Look."

He looked back down at the page in front of him. The words were gone.

"Narcissa, this… that's excellent use of magic. This could be a very helpful method of communication, not only for us, but for the entire wizarding world…" He was visibly impressed. If wizards and witches could communicate covertly, messages that would almost instantly disappear, they wouldn't need to rely on Owls or Patronus messages in the event of emergencies. What it could mean in wartime! His head spun with the very idea of it.

"I thought it was pretty clever!" She returned to the bed, kneeling, grinning in a self-satisfied way. He grabbed her, flipped her to her back, and kissed her.

"It's brilliant."

"You shouldn't sound so shocked." She said this as if with extreme hurt, but the twinkle in her gray eyes told him she was putting him on. "I wasn't really in the Slug Club simply because I'm so pretty."

"That reminds me," he said, as his hand wandered from her neck, over her chest, to her thigh. "I got you one other gift. Really, it's for us to share."

"Oh?" she asked, positioning herself so she was under him, pressing her body against his.

He drew a black scarf from the pocket of his robes.

"What's this?" She asked, curious but confused.

"It's a blindfold."

"What for?"

He sat up and tied it over his own eyes. "So you don't have to worry about me looking at you."

She laughed, but she loved it. She pulled him back down on top of her, kissing him once, then flipped them so he was on his back with her on top. "In that case, I think I'm wearing entirely too much. Care to help me remove this dress without the benefit of sight?"

He ran his hands up her sides and around to her chest. "I thought you'd never ask."

Hours later, exhausted and satiated, she fell asleep in his arms.

He didn't regret asking her to stay the night.

He truly didn't.

But he couldn't sleep either.

That nagging feeling had returned.

 _Only physical, not emotional – no romance, no attachment._

His last thought, before succumbing to sleep, was not of Narcissa, but of Lily.

He liked Narcissa. Desired her. Enjoyed her company.

But she loved Lucius.

And he loved Lily.

He was in love with Lily.

Always.

* * *

 **A/N:** So… I screwed something up. I totally forgot that Draco flinched when Madam Malkin touched his left arm over the summer, indicating he had already been given the Dark Mark, and also that Narcissa and Harry had a verbal exchange then too. That's why I added the conversation about the shopping trip and the Dark Mark in here. Trying to do everything from memory isn't easy but I want to be as Canon as possible. Thanks for your patience! Also, if you are reading but haven't reviewed, I'd love it if you'd drop me a note telling me what you think - even if you have criticism. It helps! Thanks! AL


	9. The Morning of Jan 9, 1997

**Chapter Nine – The Morning of January 9** **th** **, 1997**

Since Lucius' arrest and subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban, only twice has Narcissa awoken without the immediate and depressing reminder that she slept alone.

The first time was Christmas morning, after spending the entire night in the arms of Severus Snape at his home on Spinner's End.

The second was the morning of January 9th, when she awoke to find her sister staring so intently at her, she actually felt the glare before opening her own eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" whispered Narcissa, groggy and a little weirded out.

"I want to have a baby," whispered Bellatrix.

"Sorry," said Narcissa. The grandfather clock in the corner showed that it was only 4:48 in the morning. She rolled over and closed her eyes once more. "I can't help you with that. We're related."

"Ha-ha," said Bellatrix sarcastically. "I mean it. What you said back in August, about me being alone and childless and not continuing the bloodline or whatever, it got to me."

"I don't recall saying anything to about not continuing the bloodline." Narcissa kept her eyes closed. She had never been a morning person, and she definitely wasn't a heart-to-heart chat before five am sort of person.

"I want to have a baby. Do you think I'm too old to have a baby?"

"I think you're too insane to have a baby." Exhaustion made it harder for Narcissa to sugarcoat the truth. She'd been up well past midnight, having developed insomnia since Draco was assigned his task, and she was in no mood for such a stupid conversation. "You made it clear to me back in August that you'd be perfectly willing to sacrifice your child to the Dark Lord, which illustrates just how uncut out for motherhood you are. Mothers protect their children, Bella, no matter the cost."

"Our mother didn't."

"And that's what you aspire to be? Like our mother?"

Bellatrix recoiled. Fourteen years in Azkaban had not dulled her of her hatred for their mother. If anything, it made it more intense, as life surrounded by Dementors meant reliving that childhood abuse on a daily basis, inside her own mind, unable to escape into her imagination the way she had when it was actually happening, starting nearly forty years ago.

"I don't want to be like Mother," Bella said softly. She wrapped an arm around her younger sister's waist, curling up close to her. "I want a miniature version of myself, like you have."

"I'd hardly call Draco a miniature version of myself," said Narcissa, "But I understand what you mean. When I was pregnant for him I spent the entire time picturing him as a little girl. A little blonde girl with gray eyes, like me."

"Is that why you didn't cut his hair for the first six years? He looked like a little blonde girl with gray eyes, like you."

"Shut it." Narcissa slapped Bella's hand, the one that was settled on her stomach, but her older sister did not move. "What's going on with you lately, Bella? Worrying about your looks, talking about having a baby… I feel as if I hardly know you."

" _I_ feel as if I hardly know me," replied Bellatrix. "But I know it's what I want."

"Your husband is in Azkaban, remember? So who's going to father this mystery child?"

"You said yourself that men find me attractive," said Bellatrix, rolling onto her back, finally giving Narcissa room to breathe. "I'm certain I can find… someone. Or I can wait for him to get out. The Dark Lord doesn't think His followers will be in Azkaban much longer."

"No?" Now Narcissa rolled over onto her opposite side, opened her eyes, and regarded her sister carefully. "He told you that?"

"He did."

"Which means I'd get my Lucius back?"

Bellatrix sneered. "Do you want him?"

Narcissa ignored the question. "Why were you crying?"

"Excuse me?"

"Last night, when you came in and asked to sleep with me. You'd been crying. I could tell you'd been crying even though you said nothing was wrong. Your eyes were red and puffy. I know what crying looks like."

"I don't cry," said Bellatrix haughtily. She stared up at the ceiling.

The night before, shortly after midnight, when Narcissa was pacing in her room unable to sleep, Bella had knocked on the door. Cissy let her in, of course, and asked her what was wrong.

"Nothing is wrong," Bella had whined, but it was clear that was a lie. "I was just feeling… lonely… and I wanted to sleep with you."

"You're forty-five," Narcissa had said, rolling her eyes. "Aren't you too old to feel lonely and want to sleep with your sister?"

"How many times when we were children did I let you sleep with me?" asked Bellatrix, fire in both her voice and her eyes. "You'd cry like a little bitch after he left the room and Andromeda would ignore you like she couldn't hear, but I'd get into your bed or let you get into mine so you wouldn't have to be alone and scared."

This had shaken Narcissa, partly because she didn't like to remember those days, and partly because she couldn't understand why Bella – who had been completely independent since she turned seventeen – would even want to stay in Cissy's room.

"Are you feeling alone and scared?" Narcissa had asked.

"I don't get scared," Bella had answered. "Fear is for children."

But Narcissa knew that wasn't true. She had seen fear in the eyes of her sister, when the returned to Malfoy Manor after the Ministry fiasco. He'd been more furious than Narcissa had ever seen Him. He cursed Lucius' name, cursed the names of all of His captured followers, cursed the name of Harry Potter, shouted threats at Narcissa and Draco, then grabbed Bellatrix, whom He'd thus far ignored, by her hair, threw her to the floor, and hit her. Repeatedly. Not with magic, but with His fist. It had killed Narcissa, not being able to do a damn thing to help her sister, the sister who'd protected her from so much and comforted her so often when protection wasn't possible, but she knew stepping in or speaking up would make it worse.

What haunted Cissy, though, was that Bella's eyes didn't show fear when she was being beaten. On the contrary, she looked as though this was nothing new or surprising to her. She didn't appear terrified until He pointed His wand at her. Her heavy-lidded eyes grew large as she waited, wondering if He would curse her or kill her.

He decided upon the Cruciatus.

"That was a relief," Bella had said once it was over and He had gone. "When He drew His wand, I was expecting much worse."

Remembering this, Narcissa agreed to let Bella spend the night in her room, just as she used to let Draco whenever he'd had a nightmare (even though his father said this was unnatural and would make him soft).

"I don't know why you won't tell me what had you so upset last night," said Narcissa. She tugged on Bella's hair the way Bella always did to her. "You can confide in me."

"I can't," said Bella. "You're no good at Occlumency and I have no desire to hand you information that could expose a potential weakness in me, lest the enemy draw it out of you."

"For goodness sakes." Narcissa flung her arms up over her face. "Because the enemy spends a lot of time rifling through my mind looking for candid information about you."

"It could happen."

"So could a lot of things," said Narcissa.

"I want a girl baby. I want her to have my hair. I love my hair. But maybe your eyes, if that's possible. And Andromeda's complexion. That bitch always had beautiful skin. We get our color from Father's side. You get your eyes from Mother's. That's the only thing I'd want from Mother. No offense."

"None taken."

"I would teach her magic from an early age. Magical theory, and the Dark Arts, useful charms and spells, hexes and jinxes, maybe even potions, though I haven't much use for them myself. All before she's old enough for Hogwarts, assuming there's still a Hogwarts after the Dark Lord takes over. And I would raise her to be of service to Him. She could be His most valuable, having been tailored since early childhood to do as He'd request. But I wouldn't sacrifice her, not really. I wouldn't let Him hurt her, especially not like Mother let Stepfather hurt us. I wouldn't be a bad mother, Cissy."

"What's your plan, then? You're going to find a random man to knock you up so you can have a baby, even though we are clearly headed into another war? Won't that make the Dark Lord angry? You won't be as useful to Him if you can't move around because you're big as a house, ready to go into labor at any moment."

"I didn't say it was practical, Cissy, I only said it's what I want. I lost a lot of years to Azkaban. If I don't have a baby soon I never will. Like you so helpfully pointed out last night, I'm forty-five fucking years old."

The grandfather clock began to chime in the corner. Five am.

"Bella? Can we talk about this later? I'm tired," moaned Narcissa. "I promise, when I'm fully awake we can have this conversation again and I will be mentally present for its entirety."

"Okay," said Bella. She moved close to Narcissa again, resting her head on her younger sister's chest. Instinctively, Cissy began stroking Bella's hair, which was also something they did when they were children, but with their positions reversed. Narcissa didn't understand why she was suddenly cast in the role of elder sister, but she supposed she didn't mind. Perhaps fourteen years locked away had stunted Bellatrix emotionally. Narcissa couldn't imagine trying to last more than a few hours there. She couldn't imagine how Lucius could possibly be holding up, even if, as Snape pointed out, he didn't have their childhood trauma to relive during his incarceration.

It took her nearly a half hour to fall asleep again.

When she woke for the second time, it was after ten, the January sun was shining through the window, and Bella was gone.

Narcissa, as she always did upon waking now, reached for the small notebook in her bedside table. It was hot to the touch, which meant she had a new message.

 _Exhausted. I couldn't sleep last night for thinking about you._

She smiled. It wasn't as… dirty… as their usual exchanges, but in a way that made it better. She could fill in the rest with her imagination.

 _Bella stayed in my bed last night, which made it more difficult for me to think about you, but you were my first thought upon waking. What are you doing tonight? Anything to celebrate your birthday?_

His initial message disappeared, replaced by a new one.

 _Drinking, probably, to forget the date._

 _That won't do. Meet me somewhere._

 _I can't go far from the castle. It's a Thursday._

 _Hogsmeade, then. The Hogs Head Pub. We'll have a drink._

 _Do you know who runs the Hogs Head Pub, Narcissa?_

 _That dodgy old fellow with the beard, smells like he's been sleeping in a goat's pen?_

Snape sighed, knowing meeting her in public could be dangerous. Even though the Hog's Head Pub had a… different… clientele, the fact is that it was owned by Aberforth Dumbledore, which meant any interaction between them that appeared to be anything more than casual could easily get reported back to the Headmaster. Deciding to risk it in order to avoid spending yet another miserable birthday alone, he scrawled a reply.

 _I'll meet you for a drink. 9pm._

 _I'll be there._

It was their cleanest conversation since she'd given him the book for Christmas fifteen days before.

Most of their other back-and-forths had been full of things they wanted to do to each other, and the things they wanted to have done to them. Each message made her stomach flutter as wildly as the day she'd felt like she swallowed hummingbirds, and more than once (unbeknownst to her) he'd let her words inspire him to take action alone in his chambers, with her in his mind.

She couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt with every sexually explicit message she scratched out with her quill, but she figured it wasn't as if Lucius would ever know.

Besides, she promised herself, the second he was out of Azkaban she would break it off with Snape. Permanently. Even if the first thing Lucius did upon his release was fuck one of their friends' wives. She wouldn't care. She would look the other way about it and be the faithful, loyal, loving wife she'd always been.

It was Snape's birthday. What should she get him? She had to get him something, even though she was certain he would say otherwise.

He liked to read. So maybe a book? But what kind of book? A Muggle book? Could she even buy a Muggle book? Where do Muggles get books? They must have bookshops, right?

Ugh.

No.

Not a Muggle book. She couldn't picture herself buying a Muggle book. It was uncomfortable enough buying Muggle hair color.

She'd have to think of something else.

Something better.

Clever.

But not too thoughtful. Not like something she'd buy for Lucius.

Something she'd buy for a friend.

What did people buy for friends?

She didn't really have any, thus she had no idea. She could ask Bella… but Bella would want to know why she's buying Snape a birthday present in the first place, and since she already suspected her little sister was having an affair, it didn't seem a good idea to put a possible name in her head.

With a sigh, she returned the little book to the table drawer and forced herself out of the warm comfort of her bed.

She could think about it in the shower. A shower would help clear her mind.

She hoped.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry this chapter is so short! It was actually wayyyyy too long, so I had to cut it up, which is why you've only read the morning of Jan 9th - the evening (and Snapes's birthday 'celebration') is coming up next. Also, it says online Snape was born January 9th 1959, making him 38, not 37, but since that would mean he wasn't in the same year as Lily and the others at Hogwarts I have gone with the birth year 1960, thus making him two months older than James.

PS: To answer Qs, yes, I love Helena Bonham Carter/Mrs. Lovett, Johnny Depp, and Alan Rickman too, and I have seen Les Mis. I think I said already but I got to see Alan Rickman in his last Broadway performance, which was amazing. Also, a friend of mine recently met Johnny Depp at a red carpet event and I was so jealous because I had to work that night. I did, however, meet Tim Burton last week, which was cool. Never seen HBC in person though. Maybe someday!


	10. The Evening of Jan 9, 1997

**Chapter Ten – The Evening of January 9** **th** **, 1997**

That evening, after an awkward house elf-prepared dinner with Bella and the Dark Lord during which nobody spoke much, Narcissa readied herself in her bedroom. She wanted to look good, but she didn't want to look like she'd _tried_ to look good – especially since the Hog's Head Inn wasn't exactly where people went when they were looking good.

She settled on a relatively plain black dress that had a leather corset-style bodice and long sleeves that went all the way down over her wrists and attached over her middle fingers, creating a black triangle against the white skin of her hands. She paired this with black lace up boots with perhaps a two inch heel, thick black tights (because it was freezing outside), and a heavy dark gray traveling cloak with a hood. She wore little makeup – mascara and lipstick – and left her hair down. She'd been thinking of cutting it; it was too long. But it would have to do for now. At least it wasn't currently gray at the roots.

She apparated to Hogsmeade two hours early, figuring it would make sense to appear that she'd gone there to shop and only ended up having a drink with Snape at the Hog's Head because they'd run into each other and were friends.

Though she was an anti-Dumbledore as anyone else in her social circle, she had fond memories of Hogwarts, and of visiting Hogsmeade, especially at Christmastime. Though the enchanted candles and holly wreathes had all been banished after Boxing Day, the lightly falling snow and the light streaming through windows of each tiny cottage and shop still gave the village that Christmas feel. During every trip Third Year, she begged Bellatrix and Bella's friend Winifred to let her tag along when they went to Zonkos and Honeydukes and the bookshop, Tomes and Scrolls. Narcissa had usually been bored in that last one, but it was Bella's favorite, so she never complained. She would, however, beg the older girls to accompany her to J. Pippin's Potions afterward, a request they usually obliged, though Bella often did so only after pointing out that Narcissa needed to find some friends of her own, or maybe shadow Andromeda for awhile instead. Narcissa wouldn't admit it to her sisters, but she would have love friends of her own to spend Hogsmeade visits with. She just didn't know how to make them. The other four girls in her dorm had paired off two and two on the very first day at Hogwarts and she'd been the useless third wheel (well, fifth wheel) ever since.

Narcissa thought she might find a good gift for Snape in J. Pippin's Potions, but after browsing for fifteen minutes, she bid the proprietor good evening and exited, as nothing had struck her. She headed instead to Bella's favorite, Tomes and Scrolls.

She quite literally hadn't stepped foot in the bookshop since she was a Third Year (the last year all three Black sisters were in school at the same time) and as she entered, another memory struck her. It was from her very first Hogsmeade trip. After a week of begging, she'd convinced Bella and Winifred to let her follow them around, which she'd been doing all afternoon. They'd already been to the bookshop once when Bella decided they had to go back. Cissy was bored, flipping through a book entitled Practical Potions for Young Witches & Wizards, when a tall, slender, handsome man entered.

Thirteen-year-old Cissy had never seen him before, but adult Narcissa studied him in her memory, certain there was something familiar about his eyes… about the way he was looking at her sister. He was attractive but older, perhaps forty, and the way he smiled made young Cissy shiver.

"Miss Black," he said, approaching Bellatrix. "I was hoping to find you here."

Young Cissy peered at them through the stacks, trying not to be noticed eavesdropping.

"I was hoping you'd find me," Bella said. She leaned toward him, placing a hand on his bicep, and smiled in a way Cissy had never seen before. She looked like the other girls in school, the girls who batted their eyes at boys in the hallways, the sort of girls who could be caught snogging those same boys between classes whenever there were no professors in the corridor to hurry them along.

 _Flirtatious,_ that was the word. Young Cissy had never seen her sister flirt before. It felt... wrong.

"You're looking well, Tom," Bella had said.

Tom? Who was Tom?

Adult Narcissa closed her eyes a moment, trying to study his face, determined to figure out where she recognized him from. Tom. A plain name. He could be anyone. It was nearly thirty years ago. No one could be expected to remember something so inconsequential…

Tom grabbed Bella by the arm, roughly, and pulled her close. Still hidden behind the books, young Cissy gasped. "Meet me behind the Hog's Head," he hissed in Bella's ear, before placing a quick kiss just below it. "We'll apparate from there."

"I have to ditch my sister," Bella answered, staring at him as if he were the only person in the world beside herself, her heavy-lidded eyes wide, pupils dilated, full of the same wanting young Cissy had only ever seen before in the eyes of her Stepfather. It churned her stomach. The man called Tom looked back at Bella the same way before nodding, turning, and exiting the shop.

Narcissa pinched the bridge of her nose, forcing away the memory, but it plagued her. She didn't recognize the man, not exactly, not enough. But she recognized the look in the eyes of her older sister. It was the way she looked at Him. Always. It was the way she had only ever looked at Him.

Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord.

Tom.

"Shit," whispered Narcissa, shaken. So Snape had been right in his assumption that her sister had known the Dark Lord for longer than His other followers realized. She'd known Him since she was a Seventh Year at Hogwarts in 1968, a full two years before the First War began. Maybe even longer.

And suddenly Narcissa was angry. Angry at the Dark Lord. He'd been meddling in her family for too damn long. Her husband was in Azkaban for his attempt to do the Dark Lord's bidding. Her sister had spent over thirteen years in that hellhole because of Him, but still she regarded the man she called "Master" with a mix of adoration and admiration and lust and dependency. Now her son was in danger of any day being discovered constructing a plot to kill Albus Dumbledore, which would surely fail anyway and get him killed. Lord Voldemort had started the First War, which made it impossible to keep up a relationship with Andromeda after she married the Muggle-born (though Narcissa knew Mother would've disowned her regardless). Tom from the book shop was the Dark Lord, she was absolutely certain of it. Suddenly she hated Him and everything He'd done to them.

But it wasn't safe to think that way.

As Bella pointed out, Narcissa was no good at Occlumency, thus such thoughts were dangerous, as it would only take a second for the Dark Lord, or Bella, or Severus Snape to peek into her mind and find this betrayal.

She closed her eyes, pressed hard on her temples, and took a deep breath.

Snape.

She was there to find a gift for Snape.

She forced herself to put the memory completely out of her mind.

It took her another half hour, but she found something suitable, an interestingly illustrated old book entitled Magical Theory in the Middle Ages, paid for it, had it wrapped, shrunk it small enough to fit in her drawstring bag, and headed out. She had enough time to wander around Honeydukes (buying a few treats, including a couple to send to Draco, just to remind him he was in her thoughts, and a chocolate frog for Bella, who'd still seemed depressed when Cissy left that evening) and stop by Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where she picked up a second small gift for Snape (a quill that would never run out of green ink), before heading out toward the Hog's Head. It was 8:56.

"Narcissa?"

Narcissa turned, surprised to see Snape standing outside of Zonko's Joke Shop.

"Buying something fun?" she asked, pointing to a nose-biting teacup displayed in the window.

"Killing time by wandering," he said. "But don't temp me. I wouldn't mind offering a drink to some of my colleagues in one of those."

"Oh?" asked Narcissa, looping her arm through his as they trod off through the snow toward the pub. "Which in particular? Minerva?"

"No. Actually, Minerva's an interesting conversationalist, though we don't agree on a great many things. It's Charity Burbage who was driving me batty this afternoon."

"I haven't heard of her," said Narcissa, but she bristled at the sound of a woman's name. "Has Draco had her?"

"I doubt it. She teaches Muggle Studies."

"Oh." Narcissa wrinkled her nose. "Gross."

Snape laughed. "I know you have no use for the subject, but that wasn't what bothered me today. Charity's actually quite… _friendly_ …"

He said this with a slight lilt in his voice that put Narcissa even more on edge.

"Friendly?"

"She _wants_ to be friendly, I think."

"Friendly, in what way?"

He shrugged, a slight smirk on his lips. "In every way, I imagine."

"Does she want _you_?" asked Narcissa, taken aback. She stopped walking and grabbed his arm, turning him to face her, digging in her nails. "Is she trying to be _friendly_ with _you_?"

"Don't worry, Mum," he teased. "I'm not too weak to manage myself against her advances. I can fight her off if the need arises. And I promise I won't let her get pregnant so I have to marry her."

"Sod off!" She slapped his arm, annoyed by the fact that he was enjoying this, and even more annoyed by the fact that it bothered her. "I just don't want you spoilt by some Mudblood."

"She's not, actually," said Snape, trying not to be bothered by her use of the slur. "Not a Muggle-born, I mean. A blood-traitor, sure, but she's as much Magical as you or I. Well, no, that's not accurate. She's as Magical as _you_. I'm a half-blood, remember?"

"Don't remind me. So what did she say to you today? What did she _do_?"

"You're jealous," he smirked, linking their arms again as they resumed walking. Thankfully the combination of late hour and bitter cold meant that precious few people were wandering around the village. "You're jealous because there's a woman interested in me."

Narcissa stood up straighter, haughty, like Bellatrix. "I'm hardly jealous, don't be ridiculous."

"No?"

"Did you tell her you're taken?"

"I'm _not_ taken."

Narcissa's face reddened, but whether it was from anger or embarrassment he couldn't tell.

"I know you're not, but you should tell her you are so she'll leave you alone. You don't need some whorish Muggle Studies-promoting blood-traitor panting after you."

Snape laughed so hard he had to stop moving a moment. "Jealousy is a good look on you, Narcissa. You should see all the color it's brought to your cheeks!"

"Sod off," she said again. "You're not half as funny as you think you are."

" _You_ sod off," he replied. "I'm twice as funny as you think I am." He glanced around, ensuring no one was nearby to overhear them, and that no one was watching, and then he placed a quick kiss on her forehead. "I think it's cute that you're jealous."

She slipped her gloved hand under his scarf and pulled him closer, kissing him just as quickly, but on the lips. "You keep teasing me, Severus Snape, and I'll apparate home without giving you your present."

"I assumed you wouldn't be able to give it to me because we'll be in a public place," he murmured, kissing her back.

"You're entirely overconfident, Professor, but as it's your birthday I'll let it slide."

They managed to make it the rest of the way to the Hog's Head without interruption and took a couple of seats at a small table in the back corner, from which Snape could survey the entire bar. It was quiet and near-empty. Ideal conditions for eavesdropping, he thought. They'd have to be careful to keep conversation light, impersonal, and without any perceivable flirtation.

Behind the bar, Aberforth Dumbledore was wiping out mugs with a dirty rag. Seated on stools across from him were three wizards, all apparently lost in their own worlds (and individual drinks). In the corner opposite Snape and Narcissa, two elderly hags were arguing over a card game, several knuts littered across the table between them. At the only other occupied table, two young couples were pouring bottled butterbeer into mugs they'd clearly – and wisely – brought from home. Snape recognized them. They'd all been First Years in his first year teaching at Hogwarts. Ravenclaws. One of the girls, a pale blonde named Juliet Rosier, worked at Dervish and Banges, and he believed the two young men were both employed by the Hogsmeade post office, which probably explained why the foursome had chosen this particular pub for their late happy hour.

"That girl," whispered Narcissa, pointing to the one with the white-blonde hair. "She's related to the Rosiers, isn't she?"

"Evan's younger sister," confirmed Snape. "Remember him? He died in the First War."

"I remember. Evan's father was my mother's brother. I didn't know him well because he was a few years younger than me. I do know that Mad-Eye Moody killed him. I suppose that means she's my cousin too."

"He was a friend of mine," Snape said quietly. "We were dorm mates. His sister's name is Juliet. She was later my student. She's about your niece's age."

As if she sensed she was being spoken about, Juliet glanced their way. Narcissa's hair was still covered by her cloak, and in the dark bar it was difficult to make out faces, so if Juliet realized they were related she didn't show it, but she did recognize her former Potions professor. She tipped her drink toward Snape in greeting. He nodded.

"Small world," mused Narcissa, waving over the bartender. "Andromeda always said if we purebloods want to keep marrying other purebloods eventually all our children will be hideously deformed as the result of generations of inbreeding. I suppose she had a point… Not to say the girl's deformed! I just meant… it's a small world and getting smaller. You know?"

Snape wasn't sure how to respond to that, but thankfully it was time to order. They requested elf-made wine, but Aberforth informed them he had only firewhiskey, beer, butterbeer, bourbon, and scotch, so they decided upon the bourbon instead, which he brought them in two relatively clean looking glasses, to Narcissa's relief.

She held hers up. "To your birthday."

"Thank you." He took a long sip.

"So… how's my son?"

"About the same," he answered casually, aware they had to be careful. "His grades are still slipping. He's doing alright in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions, but Minerva says she's concerned about his marks in Transfiguration and Fillius asked me to speak with him about the quality of his Charms homework as of late."

"I'll send him a letter." She glanced around, nervously, and lowered the hood of her cloak to her shoulders, revealing white blonde hair identical to that of young Juliet Rosier a few tables away. They switched the conversation slightly, to his work. Though he was glad to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, he was dealing with the usual frustrations – namely that the dunderheads he was attempting to teach seemed determined to force him to lower his expectations for them at every turn. He ordered a second glass of bourbon, but she continued to nurse her first. Though she didn't love the taste, she appreciated the fact that the liquor kept her warm.

"My sister wants a baby," she confessed to him in a whisper, when the young foursome at the table across the pub were laughing raucously about something one of them had said.

His expression told her he was as alarmed and disturbed by this notion as she was.

"Why?"

"I don't know. I think she resents my… under-enthusiasm about Draco's… responsibility, and thinks she could better raise a child to be in the Dark Lord's service."

"She wants to birth a sacrificial lamb?"

"She assured me she wouldn't allow Him to hurt the child, but I don't believe her."

"That potion you brew," Snape said, voice maddeningly low, "You should slip some into her dinner the next time you cook for her."

"I'll keep that in mind," Narcissa murmured. "I think vanity may play into it too. She wants a daughter who looks like her. She keeps asking me if I find her attractive."

"Bizarre," mused Snape.

The two couples were quieter now, so he changed the subject, first to the weather (because when at a loss for a discussion topic, weather was always a safe choice) and then to the Slug Club.

"That's how Lucius and I met," said Narcissa, between sips of bourbon. "We were both in Slytherin, as you know, but since we were in different years we hadn't interacted until I was asked by Slughorn to join. Lucius teases me about it, but I know he enjoyed the distinction just as much as I did. I think perhaps he was jealous of me. Is that silly? But the way he always reminds me – he's been doing it since we were kids – that Slughorn only chose me for being pretty, I think that's what he wants to believe, that he can't fathom I might have been chosen on merit, because that would be make his equal, at least in one regard."

"Lucius does not believe you are equals?"

"Lucius has always made it clear there are some things men are meant for that women aren't. He's never liked that Bella was one of the Dark Lord's favorites. He thinks it's because she's a whore and there's no honor in that. That's what he calls her, anyway, the Dark Lord's whore, but I know it's not true, he's just jealous of her the way he's jealous of me. Never wants to be bested by a girl. Men are meant to have prestige and be educated and make something of themselves, while women are meant to be classy and attractive and… I think he regards me as a trophy wife. That's why he won't let me cook, it's below my place. He's very caught up in one's place, as I'm sure you know. So who's in the Slug Club this year? I am aware that Draco is not."

"Draco might have been," said Snape. "If not for Lucius' current predicament."

"I bet that Potter boy is. And the Mud…" Her eyes darted around nervously, unsure of whether she was in the sort of place where the word would fly, amending it to, "That Granger girl?"

"She is in it, yes. As I told you, she is – much as I hate to admit it – academically brilliant. Weasley's not in it but his younger sister is. I believe the only students from my house are Blaise Zabini and the Carrow twins, Hestia and Flora. Bright girls, but quiet. First years."

Narcissa nodded. He was about to ask why she cared when she posed another question.

"You were there when my Draco was Sorted?"

"Yes. Why?"

"He told us the Hat had barely touched his head before screaming out, 'Slytherin.'"

"I believe that's accurate," said Snape, taking another sip of bourbon. Narcissa was barely halfway through hers. "Why?"

"Something I was thinking about the other day, because of something Bel…" She paused, casting another nervous gander around the room, which was still too quiet, even though the card playing hags were arguing again. "Something she said about loyalty and about coming from a long line of proud Slytherins. How was it for you?"

Snape shrugged. "Took perhaps twenty seconds, the Hat said he could see ambition and cunning, determination, intelligence, and resourcefulness. Then it said, 'While Ravenclaw might do you well, best spot I see is Slytherin.' That was it. What about you?"

"Hufflepuff."

Snape nearly spit out his bourbon. Half-choking, he asked, "What do you mean, Hufflepuff?"

Her gray eyes were twinkling, but her cheeks went pink again. "I mean, I was almost in Hufflepuff. Can you imagine? A Black, in Hufflepuff? Mother would've disowned me! It's so embarrassing." She giggled. "I didn't tell anybody, not even my sisters. _Especially_ not my sisters. I was so mortified. It took a full two minutes for me to be Sorted while the entire school stared at me, my worst nightmare. The Hat said I was loyal with a good heart and that I do well with pleasing others…"

"You certainly do," Snape interjected with a touch of naughtiness. She shot him a sharp Look.

"Also that I'm fair and patient and dedicated and would do anything to protect those I care about."

"That sounds like you." Snape placed his hand over hers under the table. "So how'd you end up in Slytherin?"

"I was begging the Hat in my mind, 'Please, not Hufflepuff. Please, just Slytherin. I'd do anything to be in Slytherin. My sisters are in Slytherin.' The Hat answered back, 'Your sisters are not you,' and I replied, 'I'd die to be in Slytherin – no, I'd _kill_ to be in Slytherin.' And the Hat said, 'Well, if you feel so strongly you'd kill for it, perhaps the true place for you to best express your loyalty is… Slytherin.' And I was so relieved I almost cried."

"You could have been a Hufflepuff." Snape laughed, making her cheeks go even pinker, though she was smiling too. "A lovely little badger in black and yellow, with a common room near the kitchens, where the Motto is some rubbish about always being nice to others. Hufflepuff House… the House of Tolerance." He laughed so hard a tear escaped his eye.

"This is precisely why I've never told anyone except Lucius and even he was decent enough not to laugh about it!" She withdrew her hand from his and pouted, but he could tell she wasn't really angry.

"How did Lucius respond? Obviously he didn't divorce you over it, but…"

"He said we all have our negative traits but it would be best not to bring them up to anyone else. Isn't that ridiculous? He called being loyal and protective 'negative.' If only he knew."

She winked at him and sipped her bourbon while Snape composed himself.

"As an aside, you're an ass, Severus Snape," she added. "Which I could've sworn was a Gryffindor trait, so are you certain _you_ were properly Sorted?"

Snape opened his mouth to retort, but the response died on his lips as he realized the foursome from across the bar was making their way to the corner table.

"Miss Rosier, Miss Wildsmith, Mr. Perchik, and Mr. Bagnold," said Snape, addressing each one in turn. "It has been a long time."

"It's Mrs. Bagnold now," said Priscilla Wildsmith, holding up her hand to reveal an impressively large diamond ring on her left third finger. "How are you, Professor?"

"Just fine," he said. "Celebrating my birthday by having a drink with an old friend."

Narcissa wasn't crazy about his use of the word _old_ which had preceded _friend_ , but she reminded herself he simply meant they'd known each other a long time. As Snape conversed with the Bagnolds and Perchik, Juliet Rosier leaned close to Narcissa, speaking in a low voice, regarding her carefully.

"You're Narcissa Malfoy, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Narcissa. She added as if she didn't know, "And you are…?"

"Juliet Rosier. Your cousin. My father and your mother were brother and sister."

"Ah, yes." Narcissa extended her hand and the girl shook it. "Your brother was Evan. I remember him, but never knew him well. He was a few years behind me at Hogwarts."

"Yes, he was killed by that Auror, Mad-Eye Moody." She spit out his name as if it tasted of a vomit-flavored Bertie Botts bean. Narcissa remembered vividly how furious Mother had been when Moody murdered her brother's only son because it meant the end of the Rosier family name. "Another ruined branch of the tree," she'd lamented.

"Is it true…" Juliet dropped her voice even more, so that Narcissa had to strain to hear her, "Is it true that the Dark Lord is poised to take over the Ministry? They say He was personally responsible for the murder of Amelia Bones late last summer. They say it's only a matter of time before the Ministry falls."

"Who are _they_?"

"Those in the know," whispered Juliet. "Is it true?"

"What makes you think _I'd_ know?" asked Narcissa coolly. She wasn't adept at Occlumency, but she forced herself to remain blank-faced.

"If it's true, _I_ want to know. If He's recruiting, _I want to know_. Your husband is in Azkaban, right?"

"Yes," Narcissa confirmed, her face still void of all expression.

"I don't want to end up there, but I _do_ want vengeance for my older brother. I was only ten when he was killed and it _destroyed_ my parents, _ruined_ our family. I know I only work at Dervish and Banges, which doesn't seem terribly impressive, but don't let that lead you to believe I haven't got an abundance of Magical ability – I could be a true asset in battle against those who support Dumbledore. I was in Ravenclaw. I'm smart. Clever. Formidable but likable. Good at keeping a secret and better at getting back at those who deserve it."

"You're humble too," said Narcissa sardonically. Juliet narrowed her gray eyes, only a shade darker than Narcissa's own, but quickly relaxed her face as if she hadn't been momentarily wounded.

"As I said, I have no desire to go to Azkaban, so I won't speak up or speak out or make my allegiance known before it's necessary, but if you're in contact with the Dark Lord – and I'm certain you are – assure Him that there are many of us, more than you'd think, who would relish the death of the Boy-Who-Lived, who would _welcome_ a second wizarding war." Juliet straightened up, a sincere looking smile on her pale face, and spoke in a normal volume. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Please," said Narcissa, keeping a casual tone and returning the smile. They shook hands again. "We're cousins. Call me Narcissa."

"Of course." Juliet tugged at the arm of her friend, Priscilla. "We really need to be going. Early morning at the shop tomorrow. Have a good night, Narcissa, Professor."

"Goodbye," said Snape. Once the foursome had vacated, he turned to Narcissa.

"I couldn't hear what she was saying, but it appeared Juliet had your ear."

"She wants to fight for the Dark Lord," explained Narcissa quietly, taking Snape's hand under the table as he had done hers earlier. "She wishes to avenge the death of her brother."

He nodded. This news clearly did not surprise him.

"She says there are many like her, who would fight for our cause."

Snape nodded a second time, turning this over in his mind.

"She seemed to think I could pass her message over to the Dark Lord," said Narcissa, studying Snape, but his face was as expressionless as hers had been.

"Can't you?"

"Do I want to?"

He raised an eyebrow, the only indication that her words had surprised him.

"Is your loyalty waning, Narcissa?" He asked, voice low, which – though it wasn't appropriate at the moment – made her want him.

"Never question the loyalty of us Hufflepuffs," she teased. "But be aware, that loyalty extends to our families and friends _first."_

"Then I'm glad I can count you among my friends," he replied. "Let's get out of here."

Snape downed the rest of his bourbon in one gulp. Narcissa tried to do the same but it burned, so she managed four large sips before leaving the little that was left in the glass. Snape went to the bar to pay the man only he knew to be Aberforth, the brother of Albus Dumbledore, but Narcissa stopped him.

"It's your birthday," she reminded him, "Thus these drinks shall be my treat." She threw two galleons down on the bar, far more than the bourbon was worth, and they exited into the snowy darkness.

"Walk with me toward the castle so we can speak candidly," said Snape. "You can apparate from the Shrieking Shack and I'll continue on from there."

She adjusted her cloak's hood so it again covered her hair. "Are you upset with me?"

This seemed to surprise him even more than her possible disloyalty to the Dark Lord.

"No, why?"

"I know it's dangerous to feel… the way I do… about the Dark Lord at the moment. But you know that Draco is everything to me."

"And you know that I will protect him," said Snape, pulling on his gloves to protect from the bitter cold.

She did the same before slipping her hand into his.

"I bought you a present," Narcissa said almost nervously. "I don't know if you'll like it. I shrunk it down to fit in my bag." She gestured toward the small drawstring bag attached to the belt at the waist of her cloak.

"Can I have it now?" he asked, sounding a bit like a little boy, which made her chuckle.

"You may have it before we say goodbye."

"In that case…" He kissed the back of her gloved hand. "It was nice seeing you, thanks for the drinks, see you later, goodbye."

"You're incorrigible." She swatted him playfully on the arm and he, just as playfully, pushed her away, but she lost her balance. As she fell, she grabbed onto the side of his cloak. She landed on her backside in the snow, pulling him down with her so they were flush against each other, with her flat on her back.

"If you wanted me to lay down with you, you could have just said so," he quipped before kissing her. She responded enthusiastically to him, but after a few moments tried to push him away.

"Stop. I'm getting all wet."

"Good," he said devilishly, moving his hand to between her legs. "I like you wet."

"I meant because I'm on my back in six inches of snow, you pervert!" Again she swatted at him but he didn't stop. His hand snaked under her dress. Over her thick tights his fingers rubbed her intimately, as he placed quick kisses on her mouth and cheeks. She gasped, kissing him back, involuntarily arching of her back, aching for him, even though it had been only two weeks since they last spend the night together.

"Reading your messages in that book each day has permanently dirtied my mind," he growled into her ear, rubbing her with his hand. "I might have to take you right here."

"No… you mustn't… You need… to stop… Someone will… catch… us…" Narcissa breathed, but she wrapped her arms around his back, keeping him close. She placed a hungry kiss on his throat, not at all bothered by the fact that he was ignoring her request.

"It's well after eleven. We're nearly at the Shrieking Shack. No one is around." He stopped his ministrations to pull at the tights, snapping the thick fabric against her legs. "What the hell are you wearing? Aren't these made for little girls?"

"It's cold!" she said defensively. "And no, they're made for any female who doesn't want to freeze to death whilst wearing a dress."

"Are you still suffering from being wet?"

"More so now than before," she answered, smirking at her own double-meaning. He laughed, rose into a standing position, and helped her up. With a tap of his wand to her back she became instantly dry and warm, as if her clothes had been hung in front of a fire place.

"Ooh, what was that?"

"Just a bit of magic I've picked up. Feel better?"

"Much."

He did the same to his own clothes then kissed her once on the lips as she took his hand again. They continued on toward the Shrieking Shack.

"They say it's the most haunted place in the UK, but I'd never even heard of it when I was in school, or at least not until maybe my sixth or seventh year." she said, studying his face in the moonlight as they walked.

"It wasn't built until the werewolf arrived," explained Snape. He told her about how the building had been constructed with a tunnel that led to the Whomping Willow's base, about how the rumors were started to keep children away, and how the howls and groans coming from it during Lupin's transformations added credence to the story.

"Soon enough Seventh Years were telling First Years stories about the terrifying things they'd seen there as children, not realizing it had only been constructed two years prior." He paused before adding, "The Shrieking Shack is where I almost died."

"That's where they set you up?" she asked. "You didn't mention that. I assumed you were somewhere in the castle."

"It's embarrassing," he admitted, his dark eyes fixated on the snow-coated path in front of them.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "No more embarrassing than nearly being Sorted into Hufflepuff." They walked silently for a couple of minutes. Now the outline of the Shrieking Shack was visible in the darkness ahead.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever been in love?"

He halted, unable to respond, or even move.

"You don't have to tell me," she assured him hurriedly. "I was merely curious."

"I was, once," he answered. He took her hand again. They resumed walking.

"Did she love you?"

"She was a friend and I like to think she loved me as a friend."

"Did you ever tell her you loved her as more than a friend?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "It wouldn't have mattered. She fell in love with someone else."

"Where is she now?"

His expression darkened. "She's dead."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

There was a part of him, a tiny, insane part, that wanted to reveal Lily's identity to her, to come clean about how in love with Harry Potter's mother he'd been and would always be, and then ask Narcissa if she was still sorry to learn the woman was dead, but perhaps his greatest talent was self-control, which he exercised now.

"Do you think you could ever fall in love again?"

"I don't think I'll ever not love her," he answered, carefully avoiding the question.

"I wonder if it's possible to love more than one person at the same time." She didn't phrase this as a question, which caused a bubble of worry to rise up in the pit of his stomach. He hoped she was not thinking that she might love him. No. That would complicate the situation more than it already was, and he couldn't have that. Nor, for that matter, could she.

"Unrequited love is so sweet and sad," she added. "That's what my sister feels for the Dark Lord, isn't it? Love he can never return."

"I imagine so," said Snape, grateful for the slight turn in the conversation, hoping he could keep it from coming back to his feelings for Lily.

"I've been in love with Lucius since I was thirteen. Even when he cheats on me and I'm angry and I want to hex him into the next century, all he has to do is remind me he loves me and I melt because the truth is that I love him and don't think I could ever _not_ , you know? Regardless of what he's said and done throughout our marriage, I always see him at sixteen, the boy who held my hand and called me pretty and promised to protect me and displayed never-ending patience with me when I was too afraid to kiss him, to let him touch me, or look at me… Even when I was thirteen, he made me feel so safe."

Snape furrowed his brow. He couldn't picture Lucius this way, patient and protective.

"I used to make lists. When he'd hurt me - emotionally I mean, he's never hit me - When he'd hurt my feelings, I'd sit and make a list, sometimes mentally, sometimes written down, of all the things I've ever loved about him. Lately, I've tried to do it to remind myself, since he's… since he's not around, but I'm finding it increasingly difficult. I usually start the list with 'He gave me my son,' but with… with the Dark Lord… with Draco's task… every time I list it, all my brain can come up with next is, 'He may lose me my son.' Is that unfair? I shouldn't continue to blame him for something he can't control."

"We can't help the way we feel," he said, wrapping an arm around her. They were perhaps twenty feet from the Shrieking Shack now. "I've tried to stop… to stop loving… her, I've even made similar lists, lists of the reason I should forget her, the reasons she's not worth my… my thoughts, but…"

"But there are some things you just can't help," she finished. "What was she like?"

"She was kind," he said, picturing her eyes and her smile. "She could see the beauty in any person, in any situation. That was her most special talent, and it was obvious to everyone. You could see kindness in her eyes before she even spoke a word. We met when we were nine. She lived nearby."

This surprised Narcissa. She'd assumed he'd known the girl from Hogwarts, but if they met near Spinner's End, she must have been a Muggle, or at least a Muggle-born.

"She excelled at Potions," he continued. "It was one of the things we had in common, which made more bearable the fact that we were Sorted into different house - she was most unfortunately a Gryffindor. She not only displayed a natural aptitude for Potions, but she was genuinely interested in it too, in the theories behind various potions, and in figuring out news ways to make old potions better. We were best friends for a long time, but she couldn't stand my other friends, my Slytherin friends, and didn't approve of the Death Eaters. She had too much love in her heart... she couldn't stand the thought of anyone getting hurt, ever, no matter how she felt about... She..." He took a deep breath, lost in the memory of her, before continuing. "She once took up for me against your cousin Sirius and James Potter, but I was angry at her for defending me, for making it appear that I couldn't defend myself, and… we fought. I tried to apologize but she asked... she asked if I would denounce the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, if I would abandon my other friends in favor of her friendship, and I couldn't answer... I should have. I should have said I would, but... it didn't matter. She later married Jame…" He broke off, realizing he'd almost revealed her identity by naming her husband. "She later married," he said, "And we never spoke again."

"Did she die during the First War?" asked Narcissa softly. They'd stopped walking, just steps from the Shrieking Shack's door. All around them the snow swirled, coming down harder now, blowing up and all around in the increasing wind.

"She did," he confirmed softly.

Narcissa reached up under her cloak's hood to twirl her hair. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her gut that she couldn't shake, namely because she was almost certain she'd figured out who he'd been in love with, and the knowledge was simply too much to bear.

"Killed by our side or theirs?" she whispered. He made eye contact with her for a long moment, neither of them able to blink, before answering.

"The Dark Lord handled her murder himself."

She nodded, now sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd been in love with Lily Potter, and completely unable to process this information, so she did the only thing she could think of to do.

She kissed him.

And he kissed her back.

In between kisses, he asked, "You've discerned that she was Muggle-born?"

"Yes."

"You aren't revolted?"

"What's revolting about a half-blood in love with a Mudblood going to bed with a pureblood?" she asked. Perhaps it was the softness of her voice when she said the slur, the way it almost sounded backed by affection instead of disgust, but it didn't bother him the way it usually did. She held his face between her gloved hands and kissed him again, a passionate kiss full of desire and trust and genuine affection that almost scared him more than the fact he'd just revealed one of his greatest secrets to the confused little sister of the Dark Lord's most ardent follower, a woman whose Legilimency skills rivaled or even surpassed his own.

"I'm sorry he cheats on you," said Snape, firmly grasping Narcissa around the waist, pulling her into his embrace. "He doesn't deserve your loyalty."

"That's fine," she said, moving to unclasp his cloak to get to the fasteners on the front of his robe despite the frigid cold. "I haven't exactly been loyal to him for the better part of a year, anyway."

He waved open the locked door to the Shrieking Shack and pulled her inside. "It's too cold out there," he said, removing her cloak as she'd done to his.

"There's fourteen minutes left to your birthday and I haven't given you your gift yet," she said as he sucked at her neck, surely leaving a mark.

"I hope it's sex."

"It's not."

"Could it be?"

"I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing to give you _two_ gifts. No, wait, I also got you a quill. _Three_ gifts. You spoiled man."

He released her and held out his wand, quickly using it to check that they were absolutely alone, before taking her hand and leading her into an adjoining room with naught in it but an old, moth-eaten couch, a stone fireplace, and a broken piano. As he placed protective and sound-proofing wards around the Shack, and, in particular, the room (just in case they were stumbled upon), she transfigured the couch into a bed and her cloak into a thick wool blanket to cover it. He started a fire as she brushed the wet clumps of fallen snow from her hair. They made eye contact and simply stared, not moving, for several seconds, before colliding together in a flurry of frantic, hormone-driven movement.

It was dark in the room save for the light given off by the flames in the fireplace, and so she let him undress her completely.

"Four minutes," she said as he crawled on top of her, touching and kissing, wanting her. She reached her hand down to stroke him until he was ready, which didn't take long. "Three minutes."

His lips and tongue traveled down her alabaster skin, which shone like porcelain in the lack of light. She squirmed, hand entangled in his black hair, as his mouth made its way to her thighs.

"Two minutes," she said. "If you want to fuck me on your birthday, you're running out of time."

"I have all night," he said, even though it wasn't true – he'd have to return to Hogwarts before anyone would wake up in the early morning and she needed to sneak home before being discovered missing too.

He teased her with her tongue and she gasped, as this was not only something he'd never done before, but something her husband had never done to her either.

"One… one… one minute," she gasped. "Fifty seconds."

He continued to pleasure her orally and in response, she closed her eyes, lost in the sensation, hardly able to breathe. "Thirty seconds," she estimated. "Twenty-five… fif... fifteen… T-ten… Oh… oh… oh, fuck, no… yes… okay! Oh! Don't stop!"

He grinned, stopping simply because she'd requested he not. He moved back up, parting her legs more widely with his hand.

"Three seconds," he whispered. "Two… one…"

He entered her, eliciting a gasp, as she dug her nails into his bare shoulder.

"Happy Birthday, Severus," she moaned as he began to thrust.

He kissed her neck, right over the mark he'd already left.

"Thank you, Narcissa."

* * *

 **A/N:** So... hope this made up for the fact that Chapter 9 was so short. 'Only' 7000 words here! lol. Sorry Harry Hobbit, I would've worked in cake but most of the chapter was written (and all of it was outlined) before I saw your review. A lot going on here and we're about six months away from Dumbledore's death, Bella's pregnancy, the fall of the Ministry, Lucius' release, and a few other fun things. Thanks for continuing to read, follow, fave, and leave reviews. AL


	11. The Morning of Jan 10, 1997

**Chapter Eleven – January 10** **th** **, 1997**

It was after two in the morning on January 10th when Narcissa finally made it back to Malfoy Manor. She entered as silently as she was able, took off her shoes, and tiptoed up one set of stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. She used her wand to unlock the door, stepped inside, relocked the door, set her wand down on the dresser, and lit a candle, even though the centuries old home had more modern light fixtures. She regarded herself in the mirror. Despite the semi-darkness she could tell that Severus Snape had indeed left marks on the center of her throat and the left side of her neck. Mother used to call them Love Bites.

"Who were you fucking?" asked a voice, coming from behind her. Narcissa jumped, grabbed her wand, and whirled around. Bellatrix was seated cross-legged in the center of the bed, with a quilt pulled around her, wearing what looked like Muggle pajamas – an oversized turquoise tee-shirt and soft maroon pants. Her hair was a mess and mascara was smeared across her eyelids and upper cheeks.

"What are you doing in my room?" Narcissa lowered her wand but did not return it to the dresser.

"I was sleeping," said Bellatrix, as if it should be obvious. "But you woke me up when you lit the candle. Where were you?"

"Out."

"With whom?"

"That's none of your concern."

"You were having sex." Bellatrix said this matter-of-factly. Immediately Narcissa averted her eyes and forced herself to think about anything other than Severus, afraid her sister was seeing into her mind. Bella snickered. "I don't need Legillimency, Cissy. You smell like sex."

"I do not," said Narcissa, removing her traveling cloak and reaching into the dresser for a nightgown. "That's vulgar."

"I don't care if it's vulgar, it's true. I can tell. I can always tell."

"Stop it, Bella. Why are you here? There are ten bedrooms in this house with a total of twelve beds. The Dark Lord is using three. Draco has one. Wormtail has one. Before he was arrested, Rabastan had one. You and Rodolphus were sharing one; it's yours now. I have one. And there are three completely not in use, all perfectly good. So of all the bedrooms you could be in, of all the beds, why have you chosen mine?"

"I was lonely."

"I wasn't here!"

"No shit." Bella climbed out of the bed, grabbing her own wand off the bedside table as she did so. "Where were you? If you don't want to answer, I can see for myself." She grabbed Narcissa face between her hands, forcing eye contact. Narcissa closed her eyes. "I don't need you to look at me to do it, but it does make the job easier. Oh, Hogsmeade. That's nice. You bought me something… a chocolate frog. Thank you, Cissy, that was very thoughtful. Then what did you do… or shall I ask, whom did you do…?"

"Leave me alone!" Narcissa shoved Bella, who landed back on the bed, laughing.

"So sensitive, little sister. Come on, let me see."

"This is my house, Bella! This is my room, in my house. You have no right to stay here, I only allow you because…"

"No right?" Bellatrix interjected, her eyes shining madly. She laughed. "No right to stay here? In the Headquarters of the Dark Lord? When I am His most faithful, His most loyal…"

"It's not His house, it's mine!"

"It's not yours, it's Malfoy's!"

"I _am_ a Malfoy!" snapped Narcissa. "It is _our_ home."

"Hardly!" Bellatrix sneered. "It's his and his alone, and you know it. If he divorced you you'd be forced out with nowhere to go and nothing to show for your decades of service to him because not a damn thing here is yours."

"It's not called 'decades of service' when one is speaking of marriage," said Narcissa, talking over Bella's last sentence. She added, "And at least one thing is mine: Draco."

"Draco, who is happy to do the Dark Lord's bidding! It's you who has a problem, Cissy, not Draco."

"Why are we even talking about Draco?" Narcissa's voice rose, trembling slightly. "I want to know why you're in my room! I've had a long night and I want to go to bed!"

"With whom did you have a long night, Narcissa Malfoy?"

"It's none of your fucking business, Bellatrix Druella!"

Bella gasped, slinking back as if struck. Bellatrix never used her middle name, _no one_ ever used it, because it was Mother's name.

"You're going to tell me where you were and with whom," said Bella, her harsh voice colder than the snow swirling outside. She grabbed Narcissa's face again, more roughly this time, and forced her way back into her sister's memories of the evening.

She saw her in the Potions shop. She saw her in the bookstore. Purposely, Narcissa forced to the front of her mind the memory she'd seen resurface that evening, the one in which Bella met 'Tom.' This intrigued Bellatrix enough to make her cease her search.

"You know who that is?" she asked, trying to appear as if _she_ didn't. "Who is he?"

"You know as well as I that it's the Dark Lord, though I just realized it today," said Narcissa. "You've known Him since we were students?"

"Yes." Now it was Bellatrix who avoided eye contact. "Have you told anyone about this little revelation?"

"I don't have anyone to tell," said Narcissa. "Mother is dead, Andromeda might as well be dead, Lucius is in Azkaban, Draco is at Hogwarts, you've been here all night, apparently, and we both know I don't have any friends."

"The Dark Lord is currently unhappy with me," said Bellatrix, momentarily defeated. She lifted up the oversized sleep shirt to show Narcissa a crooked diagonal welt on her stomach. "We had a rather heated discussion during which He gifted me this. It's going to leave a scar. It was a modified stinging hex, I believe, but since He performs mostly wordless magic I can't be sure. I came to you because I was upset, in pain, and didn't wish to be alone. You know how much I hate to have displeased Him."

"Why is He angry?" whispered Narcissa. The crooked diagonal welt was thick, raised, red, clearly deep, and looked as though it might have been bleeding. It cut across Bella's flesh from the underside of her ribs on the left to her lower hip on the right, essentially giving the appearance of severing her midsection in two.

"I've been trying to help your son," answered Bellatrix. She let go of the shirt, letting it fall back down. "He thinks I should let the boy manage alone, but, like you, I don't wish to see him _end up dead_." She emphasized the last three words through gritted teeth, glaring at Narcissa with pure malice in her eyes as she spoke. "I don't think I ought to have to tell you again –as I've told you a thousand times – that you should be honored to have the Dark Lord staying in your home…"

Though she felt for her sister's pain and was glad to know Draco was receiving help, Narcissa could not resist interrupting to say, "I can't feel honored because I'm too consumed with feeling scared! You cannot possibly understand, Bella, because – as _I've_ told _you_ a thousand times – _you are not a mother_!"

"Well." Bella widened her heavy-lidded eyes with a look of faux innocence. "Funny you should say that, because from what I've heard, for the first few years of Draco's life, _neither were you_."

Narcissa's wand hand moved before her brain processed what she was doing. She pointed it directly at her sister and cried, "Crucio!"

Caught off-guard, Bella collapsed onto the bed, twitching, as excruciating pain enveloped her from the inside out. Though it hurt like hell, the sensation only lasted a few seconds. When Bella sat up again, she shook her wild hair and cackled.

"Is that _all_ you can manage, Cissy?" she asked in a taunting tone. "Come on, darling, _surely_ you can do better. No _wonder_ the Dark Lord thinks you're utterly _useless_. Was that your _first_ Unforgivable? Didn't _anyone_ ever _tell_ you you've got to _mean_ it? Even that _Potter boy_ was better at it than you and he was a _third_ of your age…"

"Crucio!" Narcissa shouted, pointing her wand at her sister again, expressing all of the anger and frustration and fear she felt over the Dark Lord's presence and Draco's task. Again Bellatrix was knocked back, convulsing slightly, experiencing only a smidgen less pain than the last time. Again it lasted for only a couple of seconds before she was able to shake it off, laughing.

"Oh, Cissy, sweet Cissy," she said condescendingly, using her baby voice. "As I told ickle bitty _Potter_ when he tried to avenge our _dear_ cousin Sirius, you have to truly _want_ to cause pain. You have to _enjoy_ it. You have _feel_ it from deep down in the depths of your soul. He kept trying, but he didn't have it in him. I didn't even both to try to block. If you haven't got what it takes, it's naught but a moment's unpleasantness… So what of you, Narcissa?" She leaned closer, a hungry look in her eyes, like a wolf poised to devour a bunny. Dropping the baby voice in place of a dulcet whisper, she asked, "Do you truly _want_ to hurt me? Will you _enjoy_ it? Can you _feel_ it, deep down inside your soul? The desire to bring me _pain_? Your own _sister_?"

"Crucio!" called Narcissa a third time, but with less conviction than the first two, which meant Bella barely flinched upon receiving it. This time, though, she didn't laugh.

"You've caused more hurt to my feelings than my body," said Bella, pouting, but with her eyes still sparkling, as if this were an amusing game. "I thought you _loved_ me."

"I do!" insisted Narcissa. "But… but you… but I… I…" She burst into tears.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, not bothering to continue appearing affected as she was already bored. "Stop it. Stop it _now_." She sighed, returning to her crossed-legged position, pulling the quilt back around her shoulders. "I'm sorry I said that about your mothering. I'm sure you weren't _really_ going to smother him to death with that pillow. Now quit blubbering and come to bed." She added in a childish whine, "I'm ex _haus_ ted."

"The pillow… the crying… I… I couldn't help it! I… I…" Narcissa hiccupped between sobs, determined to defend herself. "I was… there was… I think there was… some… something… wrong… with… with… with… _me_!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," said Bellatrix, staring upward as if searching the ceiling for patience. "I can't stand it when you cry. Please. Stop."

"I… I can't… stop!" sobbed Narcissa. She climbed onto the bed still in her dress and tights. Bellatrix pulled her into her arms, adjusting the quilt so it was around both of them. _"You. Made. Me. Sad!"_

"Fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuck," bemoaned Bella, wishing she hadn't goaded her sister in the first place. "I came to you for comfort after a rough night and instead of giving it, you used an Unforgivable on me, and now _you're_ crying and _I_ have to console _you_! That doesn't seem fair, does it?"

When Narcissa continued to shake with sobs, Bella gave up her quest for attention. She rose from the bed, found her sister something to wear, and dragged her by the hand to the bathroom.

"Clean yourself up, calm yourself down, get dressed, and come back to bed. You drive me crazy."

"Okay," murmured Narcissa, sniffling.

But as soon as the bathroom door was closed and she was safely alone with the faucet running to cover any sound, Narcissa wiped her eyes and smiled. Bellatrix had completely forgotten that the whole thing had started because Narcissa wouldn't tell her with whom she was having an affair, and now, hopefully, she would know better than to ask again. Diversion: successful.

After a quick shower, she dressed and returned to the bedroom, as Bella requested. The elder Black sister was fast asleep, so Narcissa hastily scribbled, "I miss you already," in the secret notebook in her side table drawer, waved her wand to snuff out the candle on the dresser, and closed her eyes. She smiled in the darkness, thinking herself quite clever.

Clever.

And cunning.

Because deep down, she she wasn't meant to be a Hufflepuff.

She was a Slytherin.

* * *

 **A/N:** So this was also technically supposed to be part of the last chapter, but both parts of Jan 9th plus Jan 10th together equaled like 11,000 words, which seemed excessive so I broke it down. Sorry no Snape/Narcissa in this one, but hope you Bella fans enjoyed their little tiff.


	12. Late May, 1997

**Chapter Twelve – Late May, 1997**

Narcissa and Snape continued to write to each other using the enchanted notebook on a daily basis, but now that the novelty had worn off a bit, they weren't confined to flirtatious messages about missing each other or detailed descriptions of the dirty things they could do upon seeing each other next. Rather, it began to feel a bit (for both) like writing in a diary that could write back. Narcissa could safely express her worries over Draco and her extreme dislike of living in close proximity to the Dark Lord, while Snape could vent his frustrations about obnoxious students and stress over figuring out the best way to help Draco without giving himself away. As the days and weeks passed, Narcissa also shared her triumphs and failures in the kitchen and her conflicting feelings about Lucius, while Snape confided in her a bit more about the torment he'd received thanks to her cousin Sirius as a teen and asked her academic opinion about a new healing potion he was trying to create by modifying a hybrid of two existing ones. After nearly twenty years of 'friendship,' it was truly starting to feel like they were friends.

One day late May, when the notebook burned hot, Narcissa opened it expecting to see an inquiry, a compliment, a desire, or a vented frustration. Sometimes he included all of these, if the note was a long one. What Narcissa did not expect to see upon opening the notebook was a sloppily scrawled message in handwriting much messier than his usual, stating simply:

 _Draco's hurt. Do not panic. I will send for you only if need be._

Of course, she panicked.

Of course, she did not wait for him to send for her.

She apparated from the safe point beyond Malfoy's Manors new, improved wards (placed by the Dark Lord himself) to the Shrieking Shack on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. From there she walked, as quickly as she dared so as not to arouse suspicion, to the castle.

Once inside (and it was easy – too easy – to get inside) she didn't know where to go. Down to the dungeons, to Snape's office? Up to the hospital wing? To Slytherin's common room? Panic swelled up even more greatly inside her.

"Narcissa Malfoy?" asked a voice from behind, one she recognized, with a Scottish lilt. She turned.

"Professor McGonagall," she said, as calmly as she could manage. "I received word that my son has been injured. Where is he?"

Minerva McGonagall cocked her head to the side ever-so-slightly, and pursed her lips. She had only ten minutes ago been informed of what happened to Draco, the result of a curse cast by Harry Potter, and could not discern how it was possible for Malfoy's mother to have been informed and subsequently made the journey to the school so quickly. She chose, though, not to ask.

"I am headed to speak with him now in the office of Severus Snape. They should be meeting us there from the hospital wing. Your son has just been discharged."

"Alright," said Narcissa. She headed in the direction of Snape's chambers.

"You know where to go?" McGonagall was still regarding her with suspicion.

"I…" Narcissa was thrown for a moment. How could she explain how she knew where to go? Slughorn no longer used the dungeon for his office and chambers by the time Narcissa was a member of the Slug Club, opting for Merrythought's old chambers instead.

"No matter," said Minerva briskly. "Follow me."

Though they walked at a quickened pace, it seemed to take forever to arrive at Snape's office door. Minerva knocked twice, whispered the password ("Magical Theory in the Middle Ages," which happened to be the title of the book Narcissa bought for his birthday, which would have made her smile were she not so worried about her son) and they entered. Snape was easing Draco into a chair.

"Minerva," Snape greeted her. "We've only just arrived… I see you've brought a guest?"

Draco looked up and his eyes went wide at the sight of his mother.

"Mum!" Immediately he stood, though he had to grab the chair for support.

"My baby!" cried Narcissa, rushing to take him in her arms. She kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, while he pulled away insisting he was fine, though he didn't really mind.

"He is weak," said Snape, "But Madam Pomfrey gave him a blood replenishing potion and applied Essence of Dittany to his wounds, which I had already closed, so he should recover completely in a few days time, though there may be some scarring."

"How did you even know I was hurt?" asked Draco, though his voice was muffled by her shoulder and hair as she held him to her. Her tears dripped steadily onto his blood-stained white shirt.

"I knew because I'm your mother and a mother knows," she said. She ran her fingers lightly over the healing slash marks across his face. "Who did this to you, darling?"

"Potter!" Malfoy spat the name out. "Who else but Potter?"

"What exactly did Potter do? Severus, what is this magic? My son is covered in blood!"

"Please Narcissa," said Snape calmly, as McGonagall conjured up two extra chairs. "Sit."

They did so, with Narcissa close enough to her son that she could hold his hand, something he would never allow in front of his friends, but given only his Head of House and the Deputy Headmistress were present, he didn't see any reason to resist.

"Now," said Snape. "Draco, tell us what happened."

So Draco did, though he left out the bit about how he was crying into his reflection while Moaning Myrtle begged him to reconsider what he'd been contemplating (suicide, though honestly he doubted he would've done it – it was the fear talking, thanks to seeing Katie Bell returned to school, and knowing he was a month away from being murdered if he didn't figure something out fast). Draco admitted that they'd dueled, but also conveniently forgot to mention he'd been in the process of sending the Cruciatus Curse (taught to him by his beloved Auntie Bellatrix) in Potter's direction when the Boy-Who-Lived shouted 'Sectumsempra' and left him a bleeding mess on the flooded bathroom floor.

"I want him expelled!" demanded Narcissa, furious. She glared at McGonagall. "Tell Dumbledore I want him expelled. I know _you_ won't do it. You've been letting bullies practically get away with murder since the boy's father was your student, him and my cousin Sirius and their pet werewolf, but I demand..."

Her voice trailed off as she noted the sharp look sent her way by Severus Snape and realized she'd just revealed information she shouldn't have had.

"The boy has been sufficiently reprimanded," said Snape. He averted his gaze to that of his colleague. "I assume I can trust you to uphold my punishment, Minerva?"

"Absolutely, yes, and I may be taking House Points away too, or adding a punishment of my own. This is completely unacceptable. Despite what you may have heard, Mrs. Malfoy, I take accusations of bullying as perpetrated by my students very seriously, though in this case it sounds like they were dueling – both breaking Hogwarts rules – and though Potter took it too far, he will not be expelled at this time."

"I want him cast out," said Narcissa, squeezing Draco's hand.

"No," said Snape so sharply Narcissa flinched. "Potter has been dealt with. Draco will recover. And you should not be here."

"If you'll excuse me," said Professor McGonagall, standing and vanishing her chair. "I need to go speak with Potter myself."

She exited, leaving Draco alone with his mother and godfather.

"You shouldn't have come, Narcissa," snapped Snape, almost forgetting her son was in the room.

"I had to! You didn't give me a single detail, only that he'd been hurt!"

"I said I would send for you if need be!"

"But what if you didn't send for me and he needed me?"

"I told you not to panic!"

"I couldn't help panicking! He's my baby and you said he was hurt!"

"I said he was hurt, not dead!"

"But what if he was so hurt he _died_? My only son!"

"If he were in danger of dying, I would have told you!"

"I thought perhaps he was injured in… in…" She glanced sideways at him. "In an attempt to complete his task! I know it's not going well, I know he's exchanging regular letters with my sister and she won't let me read them or tell me what he's saying, so when you said he was hurt, I thought maybe he'd been discovered, or… or… I don't know, I thought the worst!"

"If he'd been injured so gravely I thought he might die, I would have said so. If I had wanted you to panic, I would not have written 'do not panic.' If I had wanted you to come here, I would not have written, 'I'll send for you only if need be.' If he'd been discovered, I'd have written something like, 'He's been discovered.' What I wrote was that he was hurt, not to panic, and I'd send for you…"

She interjected. "But what if you couldn't send for me and my sweet darling little boy was lying in the hospital wing or in the Great Hall or on the grounds outside somewhere _dying_ without me?"

"Excuse me," said Draco, using the corner of Snape's desk to push himself into a standing position. "I'd love to continue to sit around listening to you fight over me like I'm five years old, but being nearly murdered by that git Potter this afternoon has me a bit tired, so I think I'd like to return to my common room now."

"Naturally," said Snape. He scribbled a note on a piece of parchment and charmed it to fold itself like an origami bird. It flew from the room as the door opened and closed again of its own accord. "I've asked Miss Parkinson to report here. She can accompany you as I'd rather you not walk through the corridors alone and I have something to discuss with your mother."

Draco narrowed his gray eyes at Snape, but didn't try to push away Narcissa, who was wrapping her arms around him again, sniffing his hair. The trio didn't speak for a full two minutes, which is how long it took for Pansy Parkinson to knock on the door. Snape waved his wand and it opened, allowing her entrance.

"Oh my dearest Draco!" the pug-faced girl squealed, taking his hand and pulling him away from his mother, into her own arms. "You already look so much better than you did in the hospital wing! I told _everyone_ what happened! Professor Snape says you need me to walk you back to the common room? Of course I can do that for you." She pressed her lips dramatically to the back of his pale hand.

Now Narcissa was the one with narrowed gray eyes, glaring at Pansy as if she'd like nothing more than to try out that Sectumsempra spell on her. Her wand hand twitched. Snape fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"I will check in on you tomorrow," Snape said. Draco nodded.

"Bye, darling," said Narcissa. She stepped forward to kiss him on the forehead. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he said. "Even though you didn't need to come. I'm fine."

Once they were out the door and safely out of earshot too, Snape moved out from behind his desk and grabbed Narcissa's arm roughly.

"What the hell were you thinking? I shouldn't have told you anyway! I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come rushing here without any further information. What do you suppose Minerva thinks? I'd only just gotten word to her, since my initial priority was making sure your son would be okay, and here you are! Don't you think she'll be asking herself how you could have possibly been made aware so quickly?"

"Then why did you write to me at all?" She wrenched her arm away, on the verge of tears. "All you did was panic me! As soon as you tell a mother, "Do not panic,' she panics! I was panicked! I thought… I thought Dumbledore… I thought Draco tried… and failed… He's only got about a month left, Severus! If he doesn't do it soon, he'll be dead!"

All of the anger evaporated from Snape. He slipped his arms around her, drawing her into his chest, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm sorry, Narcissa."

"I was scared."

"I'm sorry."

"I hate Potter."

"There isn't much to like about him," said Snape.

"There isn't _anything_ to like about him," she argued.

 _'Except that he has his mother's eyes,'_ thought Snape, but of course he didn't say it.

"Bella won't tell me what they're communicating about and I haven't managed yet to intercept any of their Owls, though I suspect they're writing in code anyway because I know my sister."

"He won't let me in on it either," said Snape. "He's still insistent that I want to steal the glory."

"I'm sorry I came to the school. I'm sorry I almost told Professor McGonagall that I knew about you and Sirius and Potter and the werewolf. I just worry that whatever Bella has planned will be dangerous. More dangerous than necessary, because she likes this sort of thing, murder, it's fun for her, it's like a game. But where she can hold her own against anyone – save, perhaps, for the Dark Lord and Dumbledore – I don't have the same confidence in my son."

"Isn't that why we made the Unbreakable Vow?" Snape cupped her face in his hands before placing a kiss on each of her tear-streaked cheeks. "You don't need confidence in him. Have confidence in me."

"I do," she said, bringing her own hand up to the back of his neck, under his hair. She pulled him down toward her, bringing his lips to hers. "I trust you."

"Since you're here anyway…" he said, looking at her hopefully.

"Oh, sure. Lure me away from my home by telling me my only child is hurt and then try to get me into bed."

He feigned disappointment. "Does that mean you're not interested?"

She let out a little sigh of resignation, hiding a smile. "I mean… I'm here already, like you said."

He lifted her up by the waist, spun her around, and sat her on the edge of the desk.

"What's his punishment?" she asked as Snape moved her hair aside to kiss her neck.

"Potter?" he murmured against her skin, already too distracted to discuss it further.

"Yes. Will it pain him?"

"I think so. I'm going to have him copying over detention slips."

She put her palms on Snape's chest, pushing him back. "That's all?"

Snape smirked. "I have a particular set of detention slips in mind."

"That hardly sounds sufficient, considering what he did to my son!"

"I could send Potter into the Forbidden Forest, but he's been there." He kissed her neck. "I could have him write lines, but Umbridge did that last year – had him etch words right into his skin, which I'd be fired for doing – so I doubt putting quill to parchment would bother him." His lips moved to her shoulder. "I could ban him from Quidditch but there's only one match left. This Saturday, actually, which he'll miss because he'll be in detention." He cupped her left breast in his hand and placed a kiss over her heart. "There are no Hogsmeade visits left, the last one just passed, so that's out." His tongue flicked under the material of the neckline of her dress, as his hand continued caressing her chest. He was hoping selfishly she would shut up, because he absolutely did not want to discuss Potter. He'd had enough Potter. He wanted _her_.

She, on the other hand, seemed to be ignoring his efforts.

"Couldn't you put him under the Cruciatus Curse or something?"

"Are you serious?" He abruptly ceased his attempts to arouse her, staring into her gray eyes. Her no-nonsense expression told him that she was, indeed, serious. He shook his head, thinking her quite possibly mad.

"That's an Unforgivable Curse, Narcissa. We don't use Unforgivable Curses on students. We can't use any curses on students, actually. Not as punishment, not ever. You've spent too much time cooped up in Malfoy Manor with your sister and the Dark Lord. You've forgotten what it's like in the real world, where Unforgivables get people sent to Azkaban."

"The boy used an Unforgivable on my sister."

"Which boy? Potter?"

"Yes. In the Ministry. She told me, after I… it isn't important why she told me, but she did! She said he tried it multiple times, but he was no match for her. He doesn't have it in him, she said. So why isn't _he_ in Azkaban?"

"You're asking me why a teenager isn't in Azkaban for using an Unforgivable Curse against your prison-escapee sister the night she and your husband tricked him and his friends into breaking into the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic to steal a prophecy as per the order of the Dark Lord? The same night your sister probably tried to kill him, or maybe some of his friends, the very night Dumbledore himself battled the Dark Lord, the night the Dark Lord let the bulk of His inner circle get captured, including your husband, save for Bellatrix? You want to know why Potter's not in Azkaban after that?"

Narcissa crossed her arms across her chest like a stubborn child, refusing to comment. Snape scoffed, shaking his head again, prompting her with, "Well?"

When she still neglected to respond, he said in a sardonic tone, "Tell your sister if she'd like to press charges, I'm sure the Wizengamot will be more than pleased to listen to her… right before they turn her over to the Dementers."

Narcissa's eyes flashed. "My cousin, Juliet Rosier, thinks the Ministry will fall. Then the prisoners of Azkaban will be released. She says those 'in the know' think it will happen soon."

"Does she? She must be more 'in the know' than I am, then." He turned away, as if distracted by the books on the shelf by the door. She could tell he was annoyed but wasn't entirely sure why.

"I hope she's right," said Narcissa. "I hope the Ministry does collapse and I hope the Dark Lord puts Bella herself in charge of the damn thing and I hope Dumbledore keels over of a heart attack so my son won't have to kill him and I think Potter deserves a far worse punishment than writing out detention slips… I wouldn't mind seeing that arrogant little look of his snuffed right out of his toady green eyes."

"I think you should go."

Narcissa was taken aback, both by Snape's words and by the harsh tone used when he uttered them. She fixated her gaze perplexedly at his back.

"What do you mean?"

"You shouldn't be here. The longer you're here, the more suspicious it will look. I think you should go."

She crossed one knee over the other, leaning back slightly on the desk, putting her hands behind her to hold her up. She studied him carefully from behind, wishing he would look at her.

"I thought you wanted to take me to bed."

"I did. But now I don't."

"I don't understand."

He whirled around, black robes whipping around him from the force of it.

"I believe I have made myself quite clear, Mrs. Malfoy. It's time for you to depart."

What little color there was in her pale face drained out, though spots of pink quickly dotted her cheeks. She blinked several times, afraid she would start to cry again. She cried easily. Always had. But she was determined not to do it now. She slid off the desk.

"Okay."

"You should not return to this school unless there is an absolute emergency and you are subsequently sent for by the Headmaster or Deputy Headmistress. Take this with you."

He reached into his desk and removed the notebook she'd given him, the one they used to correspond daily. "Obviously it is no longer to be considered a safe method of communication."

She blinked harder, but one of the tears managed to escape from the corner of her left eye. She didn't wipe it away, afraid to draw attention to it.

"Okay," she said meekly.

"Goodbye."

He did not move toward her to touch her, or kiss her, or even escort her out. He simply turned on his heel again and exited to the sitting room of his private chambers. The door slammed behind him. She jumped as if slapped.

"Goodbye," she whispered, hugging the book to her chest. Another tear made its escape.

She had no idea what she'd done wrong, or why he was so angry.

But she had a feeling it meant they were over.

* * *

 **A/N:** Harry Hobbit: No, Bellatrix gets pregnant around June of 6th year (so within a month after when this chapter takes place, when Snape kills Dumbledore) and has baby Delphini in the spring of what should be the trio's seventh year, 1998. We are still in spring of 6th year (1997).


	13. June 5, 1997

**Chapter Thirteen – June 5** **th** **, 1997**

"Do you remember the day Draco was born?" asked Bellatrix, who was kneeling behind Narcissa on the bed, French braiding her hair, like they did when they were kids.

"Of course," answered Narcissa. "A mother doesn't forget the birth of her child."

"Tell me about it."

"You've heard this story before, Bella."

Bellatrix shrugged as she plaited the black and blonde strands together – Narcissa had recently decided to color her gray roots dark instead of trying to get them to match the white blonde of her natural color. She's also cut off about six inches, but it was still long.

"I know, Cissy. But I want to hear it again. Since today is an important day and all."

Narcissa sighed, though she _really_ wasn't put out. She liked remembering that day and talking about it. Plus it's not like she had anything better to do.

"Fine. Seventeen years ago this morning, I began to have labor pains. I was nervous because I hadn't yet managed to carry a baby to term, thus I'd spent my entire pregnancy certain I'd lose that baby too, so the pains were actually a relief, right on schedule. I waited a few hours before saying anything because I'd had two false labors already and wanted to be certain. When I finally said it was time, Lucius wanted me to go to St. Mungos, but Mother thought I should give birth at home –"

"Not Mother," Bellatrix interjected, whining. "Tell the story without Mother."

"But Mother was there."

"Pretend she wasn't. Or use someone else's name. Use my name. Pretend I was there."

"Ohhkay," said Narcissa slowly. "Lucius wanted me to go to St. Mungos, but Bellatrix thought I should have the baby at home."

"Yes!" exclaimed Bella, pulling another strand into the braid. "That sounds like me."

Since her sister could not see her face, Narcissa felt no guilt about rolling her eyes over this. Still, she continued the story, humoring Bellatrix.

"So Lucius and Bellatrix got into a row. They were arguing back and forth over which would be the safest, most dignified place for Baby Malfoy, when I realized my water had broken. Then, Lucius gasped and said, 'She's going to have the baby here! Get Dobby! Get towels! Boil water! We need a stick for her to bite on!' because apparently he was under the mistaken impression I was a Muggle giving birth in 1865 instead of a witch in 1980. Mother – I mean, Bellatrix, on the other hand, panicked, grabbed my arm, and offered to side-along apparate me to St. Mungos so a qualified midwife or Mediwitch could assist in the delivery, this despite the fact one shouldn't apparate after seven months along. While they were having conniptions over what to do, I packed my own overnight bag, told Dobby what I'd need him to have done upon my return, got myself a snack – just an apple – and put on my traveling cloak. Then I made a portkey out of a soup bowl and told both my husband and my… sister… that they'd need to put their fingers on it within the next five seconds or I'd be having the baby alone and neither of them would know where."

Bellatrix giggled delightedly, reminiscent of the teenage version of herself (she could be quite giddy and fun when she wasn't being sullen and bitchy).

"Of course we went to St. Mungos, because there was no possible way I was going to have my baby on the bedroom floor like Mother did me. I also wanted to be completely free of pain. But as it turns out, I waited too long to arrive, so they could only give me a mild sedative with a potion that would 'dull the discomfort of the contractions' – their words, not mine. Really didn't do much at all. Lucius wanted to be in the room in case I needed him, but M… _Bellatrix_ said that was inappropriate. She said men who watch their wives give birth don't see fit to get them pregnant again."

"That's ridiculous," said Bella, using her wand to tie a ribbon around the end of Narcissa's braid. "Why would I say that? What was I thinking?"

"I don't know," said Narcissa, rolling her eyes again. "I guess you weren't in your right mind that day." She turned to face her sister, both sitting cross-legged on the bed.

"I'll say! Well..." Bella nodded encouragingly. "Go on with it, then. What's next?"

"Actually giving birth was much easier than I'd expected. It hurt, don't let me pretend it didn't, but it was quick. Four good, hard pushes and he was out. The pain, though… that time you used the Cruciatus Curse on me hurt less, let's just say."

"What he look like?"

"Draco? You saw him twelve hours later, so you know. He was pale, sort of bluish, but red-faced. As soon as he was out, he screamed like he was being tortured. I suppose in a way, he was. Inside the womb a baby is squished and rocked and surrounded by darkness. Entering the world must be traumatic. They wanted to take him away to clean him up, but I insisted they let me hold him first, which both Lucius and Bellatrix thought was disgusting because he was covered in blood and this thin white stuff. I had to pass the placenta too and the Mediwitch severed the cord and it was all very lovely from a mother's point of view but judging by the look on Lucius' face, it wasn't so pretty for anyone else."

This sent Bellatrix into a fit of laughter. "So maybe Moth– I mean, _I_ – was right! If a man sees his wife give birth he won't want to knock her up again."

"I didn't care. I don't care. I had my one perfect baby and that's all I needed. All I need."

"Then what happened?"

"I laid him against my chest and he was so small… I slipped my pinkie into his fist and he held it. He had ten perfect tiny fingers and ten perfect tiny toes and this bitty button for a nose and long, light eyelashes. His eyes were bluer then than they are now. Sort of a dark slate-blue. I kissed his eyelids and his cheeks and the top of his head even though he wasn't cleaned up yet, then Lucius insisted they take him away. When I got him back I stroked the fine white hairs on his little head, you could hardly see them but they were so soft."

Narcissa's eyes misted with the memory. Though he was today finally of age, he would always be that newborn she held to her chest. "He was perfection, Bellatrix. I'd never been so completely in love. Not before and not since. It's much greater than romantic love. For one, it's mutually unconditional. You can't imagine until you've…" She caught Bella's hopeful expression, the envy in her eyes, and her voice trailed off. "Anyway. He was a perfect baby and now he's an adult. My baby is an adult!"

"I want one," whispered Bellatrix. "I want what you've had. I want that mutually unconditional love."

"It isn't _all_ beautiful, though, Bella. Pregnancy was difficult. I was in the hospital for eight days afterward because I kept bleeding after I should've stopped. Then, in a lot of ways, the first few years of motherhood were awful. You weren't around much when he was a baby, you were too busy with the war, and when you visited I tried to hide it, but it was… I was…"

"I'm sorry I said you weren't much of a mother for the first three years," said Bella. She tugged affectionately on the end of Narcissa's braid. "Forgive me?"

"I forgive you. But you have to understand, it's like I was a different person. Out of my mind, sometimes. Literally. Like I could see myself from outside myself and I felt badly for the woman I could see but I couldn't help her."

Bellatrix's eyes darkened as if a storm cloud had just moved in. "That's how I survived our childhood. I never felt him touching me, but I could see it. I could see him hurting a girl who looked like me – not Andromeda, I mean, it was me – but it was like I was watching a play."

Desperate to change the subject, Narcissa asked, "Have you ever seen a play? I haven't."

Bella's eyes brightened again, but also went wide with surprise. "Never? Of course I have. When I was a third year at Hogwarts, the sixth and seventh years performed a version of 'The Tale of the Three Brothers,' you know, from those Beedle the Bard stories you liked, and once Rodolphus and I went to a Muggle theatre to see this show called The Mousetrap on our anniversary."

Now it was Narcissa's turn to widen her eyes, utterly shocked. "You and Rodolphus went to a Muggle theatre to see a play on your anniversary? Individually all of the words in your sentence make sense to me, but when strung together in that order you completely lose me, Bella. Where the hell was I? How did I not know?"

Bella snickered. "Yes, we did! You did not know because we did not tell anyone! Except you'll never guess who we saw there. Severus Snape! I didn't know him well, not yet, but Rodolphus recognized him as one of the newer recruits. He must have been fresh out of Hogwarts. It was… 1978, I think. We'd been less-than-happily married for five years. It was difficult to find places to go for entertainment, what with the war on, so the Muggle theatre seemed like a good escape for the evening. Not sure why Snape was there."

"What was the play about?" Narcissa was intrigued. She wished she could ask Severus about this, but they hadn't spoken since he'd thrown her out of his office the evening Draco was injured. She'd sent him two Owls since, the first apologizing for whatever she'd done and the second begging him to just tell her why he'd gotten angry, but there'd been no response.

"Murder mystery. Fun, really, not that I approve of Muggle entertainment. But I liked trying to figure out which one of them was the murderer. It was written by some woman, playbill said it was the longest running show in Britain."

"Agatha Christie?" asked Narcissa. "Was that the woman who wrote it?"

"Yes! I'd forgotten her name, but that's it. How'd you know?"

"I… I wouldn't mind seeing a play someday."

"Hogwarts did a Christmas play once, before we were born, I think, or maybe when we were little. Then, my third year, Septima Vector – you know her, Arithmancy – she decided to try to resurrect the drama department Hogwarts never really had. She was terribly strict though, I think that's why it didn't go over so well." Bellatrix shrugged offhandedly. "Everyone said she was too difficult, gave too much work, didn't accept any excuses or less than the best, but I liked her. I earned Outstanding in my Advanced Arithmancy O.W.L. thanks to her."

"Why didn't you continue seventh year? You dropped it, didn't you?" Using her wand, Narcissa opened the drawer of her bedside table. "Accio glass. Aquamenti." After taking a sip, she asked Bella if she wanted water too, but her elder sister shook her head.

"I didn't continue seventh year because I'd met the Dark Lord, Cissy, and I knew I was destined for far greater things than anything I could learn from studying the magical properties of numbers. I quit Ancient Runes for the same reason. Fat lot of rubbish. Where was it going to take me? The Dark Lord taught me all of the truly important things I'd need to know. How to use both Legillimency and Occlumency, how to perform the Unforgivable Curses, how to do nonverbal magic and even a little wandless magic… Runes and Arithmancy won't take down the Ministry, won't help us take over Hogwarts, won't kill Harry Potter."

"Potter's not that bright, Bella. If you challenged him to a Runes translating session his brain might explode from the difficulty of it."

Bella snorted at that. She slid over to Lucius' side of the bed and reclined on her back as Narcissa refilled her water glass. "You know, Cissy, I was almost there when the Dark Lord went to kill Potter. He told me He was going. Me and me alone. He'd finally gotten word of the whereabouts. He didn't tell me Wormtail told Him, so later I thought it was Sirius like everyone else. I was so disappointed to learn that wasn't the case. Pity."

"He almost brought you with Him?" This was news to Narcissa. She'd been home that night, unaware that anything of any significance was about to occur. It was Draco's second Halloween, the first he could really experience, and though Lucius said it was a silly stupid Muggle thing to do she'd bought him an adorable lobster costume and taken a moving photograph of him wearing it while propped up in a giant silver pot, a photograph she still kept in a gilded frame on the mantle in their sitting room. It was one of her favorites. He'd been almost seventeen months old and so completely adorable that even Lucius later had to admit that he liked the picture.

"I begged Him to bring me, but He said no, it was something He had to do Himself. Word spread quickly after… about the Boy-Who-Lived, but I was certain He couldn't really have been defeated, not by a damn baby, so that's why I grabbed Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Crouch, and we headed to the Longbottoms. That was the worst night of my life. I was afraid I'd never see Him again."

Narcissa nodded, trying to look understanding, but the truth was, she was terrified but also secretly relieved that night, and even more so after it was clear Lucius wouldn't be going to Azkaban like many of their friends. Being so close to the Dark Lord had always made her uneasy.

"Before I gathered them, I went to the house on Godric's Hollow," Bella went on. "They had already taken the baby away and I knew there was a chance Ministry officials could be anywhere, but I had to see for myself. Curiously, what I saw first was Snape. Slinking out. He left before the great oaf and Dumbledore arrived to take the baby."

"I thought they had already taken the baby?"

"Before I got inside. Sorry, I'm mixing it up. I arrived. I hid and watched. I saw Severus Snape slinking out. Dumbledore arrived. I continued to hide, spying. He didn't notice me. He entered, stayed awhile, came outside with the baby. That half-giant showed up on Sirius' enchanted motorbike with the sidecar. They put the baby in it. Hagrid left. Dumbledore went back inside. He came back outside. He disapparated. When I was sure it was safe, I entered the home. Their bodies were still there, but I was sure he was coming back. He being Dumbledore. With the Ministry, I figured. So I didn't stay long. But I saw them."

"What was Snape doing there?"

"Hell if I know, but I was furious, I thought perhaps the Dark Lord let him go too, after He told me I couldn't, which felt like a terrible betrayal. But when I got out of Azkaban, when I was able to ask about it, the Dark Lord said He thought Snape was there for the same reason I was, to see if our Master could be found. Anyway, when I went into the house…"

Narcissa leaned forward, so thoroughly engrossed in the story of that night she poured several drops of the water onto the bedspread without noticing.

"As I said, the man was dead in the hall. The woman was dead in the baby's room. The crib was empty."

"Had you ever seen them before?" asked Narcissa, voice barely above a whisper. "The Potters?"

"Once. We battled them once, with other Death Eaters and members of the Order of the Phoenix. This was before they had the boy. Not even sure they were married yet. Potter's mother and I dueled. I could have killed her. Easily. But you know me; I like to have a little fun first. I started small, jinxes and hexes, while she tried to stun me, the sweet, stupid girl. Then I worked my way up to the Cruciatus, because it's my favorite. I let her take a little breather so I could goad her into trying something other than a stunning spell. I wanted her to want to hurt me. But pausing, that was my big mistake. She was looking up at me from the floor with her hideous toady green eyes, unable or unwilling to try to kill me, so I was about to put her out of her misery when the boy's father hit me from behind with a Stunner. I might have been arrested if your husband hadn't been there to Rennervate me so we could apparate away."

Narcissa's chest constricted painfully. "What did you say?"

"I said your husband was there to…"

"No, what did you say about the boy's mother? About her eyes?"

"Oh." Bellatrix sneered. "She had hideous toady green eyes. Why?"

"Nothing, no reason," breathed Narcissa. 'Shit,' she thought. That's it! That's why Severus was angry with her. She said she wanted to see the life snuffed out of Harry Potter's toady green eyes. Snape, meanwhile, had been to Godric's Hollow the night she – Lily Potter – was killed, he had probably seen her lifeless toady green eyes. And she'd been his childhood best friend. The woman he loved, even now. Shit.

"What's wrong, Cissy?" Bella sat up, a look of genuine concern on her gaunt face. "You seem sad."

"It's… Draco," she deflected. "He's seventeen today. Of age. An adult. With such responsibility. I'm worried about him, that's all."

Before Bellatrix could respond, a loud POP made them both jump. It was one of the house elves, having apparated into Narcissa's bedroom, impervious to the preventative wards.

"Missus Malfoy, ma'am, the man called Snape is here for to see you."

Bellatrix and Narcissa exchanged a puzzled glance.

"I'll meet him in the sitting room."

"Yes, Missus."

POP

"Wonder what he wants," said Bella, rising from the bed. "Fill me in later. I've been loafing around too long. I'm going to ask the Dark Lord if I can go out in disguise this evening. I've been cooped up too long. I'm going stir crazy. It's almost as bad as Azkaban."

"I'll let you know," said Narcissa, a flutter of worry in the pit of her stomach. What could he want? Why had he showed up without warning? Now that she realized why he was angry, should she apologize again? Tell him she understands? Or pretend it never happened and act like they've never been anything more than casual friends?

He was already seated on the couch in the sitting room when she entered. She pushed from her mind the mental image of fucking him there, the day she'd tried to break it off with him, but she could feel her cheeks going pink.

"Don't panic," his voice said, void of inflection. "Draco is fine. Is it safe to talk? Where is your sister?"

"She's appealing to the Dark Lord for permission to go out. Why are you here if not to panic me?"

"I cannot get him to accept my help. I know he is communicating with your sister somehow and I suspect it is not by Owl, since I've been carefully monitoring the Owlry since you and I last spoke. His two attempts to assassinate Dumbledore thus far have been disastrous. He's nearly killed two other students instead and I fear he will become even more reckless as the end of the month approaches. Whatever method he is using, however, may not be as sufficient as he would like, because he came to me this morning and grilled me for some time."

"About?" Narcissa sat on the couch too, but the opposite end. She drew her legs up under her, trying to regard Snape as emotionlessly as he was doing to her.

"About you."

"About me?"

"He wants to know how you knew to come to Hogwarts when he was hurt. He says I must have gotten you a message nearly immediately and he thinks if I have a communication method that could help him in his task, I owe it to the Dark Lord – and to you – to pass it along."

"He wants the notebooks?"

"He doesn't know about the notebooks. I told him I'd used a Patronus."

"Should I give him the notebooks?"

"You absolutely should not. I'm afraid he's planning something huge and disastrous, possibly with the assistance of your sister, and don't think it would do him a great service for him to have that at his disposal. If anything, it may make the situation worse, if I am to protect him and complete the task for him, should he be unable."

"Very well." She stood, stepping toward the door. "You could have told me this by Owl."

"I also wanted to say I'm sorry I threw you out, but I do think it's for the best that we not continue to do… what we were doing."

"It's fine." She was about to add that he could see himself out, but his next words halted her.

"Draco asked me about that, too."

"Excuse me?" She walked back toward him, not wanting to have this conversation across a room. "Asked you about what, exactly?"

"He asked if there's anything going on between us that his father should know about."

Narcissa's silvery eyes darted from the door to the couch to Snape's face and back to the door, as if she felt trapped or perhaps exposed, even though that was silly – Draco wasn't even home and Lucius was, of course, still in Azkaban.

"How did you respond?" she whispered, sick to her stomach.

"I said the question was both ridiculous and juvenile and I wouldn't entertain such nonsense by dignifying it with an answer. Then I reminded him that while I am both his godfather and his professor, I am not his friend, and he should do well to remember that when addressing me in the future."

She settled back into position on the end of the couch.

"Did he accept that?"

"He seemed to. He apologized and left my office, but I'm certain he won't be coming to me for help now. Not that he was coming to me for help before."

"Alright." She stared down at her hands, fingering her ornate wedding ring, designed by Lucius personally and gifted to her as an anniversary present. "Thanks for trying. It's his birthday today, you know. Seventeen. He's of age."

"What kind of godfather would I be if I didn't know that today is his birthday and he's of age? Must be strange for you. Having an adult child."

"Don't remind me. I was already feeling ancient. I swear my hair's more gray than blonde now."

"It's more black than blonde," said Snape. "It's an interesting change. I…" He'd been about to say 'I like it,' but thought better of it. "I think it suits you."

"Thank you." She returned her gaze to her fingers, wishing Bella hadn't braided her hair so she could be twirling it instead of her ring.

"Have you been…?" He cleared his throat and began again. "How have you been?"

"The usual. Ill with worry, plagued by intermittent boredom. I've been cooking like mad, though."

"Have you been using the cookbook?"

"Yes." She half-smiled. "I made a ham the other night."

He nodded appraisingly. "Oh? How was it?"

"Terrible."

He smiled. "I'm sure you're being too hard on yourself."

"No." She scowled at the memory. "I thought it tasted okay, but Bella _assured_ me it was terrible. She said the Dark Lord asked her if our house elves had gone on strike. He also apparently said He thought Nagini could make a better ham."

Now Snape was hiding a grin.

"Nagini, his snake? She spends a lot of time in the kitchen, does she?" A guffaw threatened to escape. He tried to hold it back.

"It's not funny, Severus!"

Maybe it was due to the tension in the room, or the overwhelming stress and guilt that was plaguing him in regards to his own upcoming task, but Snape couldn't help cracking up, not only at the notion of the snake making a better ham, but at the indignant look on Narcissa's pale face.

"It's a little funny," he insisted. "I'm picturing her in an apron, slaving over a hot stove."

"It is not funny! It's not at all funny! I spent all day in the kitchen… I followed the recipe's directions… I… I…" Picturing the snake in an apron, suddenly unable to help herself, she began to snicker too. "Okay, I concede that it's a _little_ funny."

For the next fifteen minutes or so they simply chatted, sitting on the couch, not close enough to touch, not daring to discuss anything intimate or that could lead to flirtation, just being... friends. When the clock chimed six, he told her he had to go because he couldn't miss dinner in the Great Hall with all of the other professors else it might look suspicious. She said she understood and needed to be figuring out her own dinner anyway. They stood together, perhaps two feet apart, unsure of how to say goodbye. Finally he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

"Have a good evening," he said.

"You too," she said.

And then he was gone.

* * *

 **A/N:** I can't wait to post the next chapter! It's the night of Dumbledore's death, one of my favorite parts of  The Half-Blood Prince. Only problem is, I'm going with book canon, not movie canon, so Bellatrix isn't there when he's murdered and the Dark Mark is pre-conjured, not done in triumph by her. (I'm sad about this. Bellatrix throwing up that Dark Mark is quite possibly the only movie moment I prefer to the book moment.) Anyway, I hope you'll like how I handled that. I was originally going to skip right over June 1997 but this mini plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. Unrelated, I noticed that one of my Faves unfavorited me - which is totally fine! - but if you're reading and enjoying and then I suddenly write something that you hate, please let me know! Constructive criticism helps. Thanks as always for reading, reviewing, faves, follows and PMs! AL

 **PS:** Harry Hobbit - Last night I saw your Qs on my  Thrice the Tabby Cat Hath Mew'd Dumbledore/McGonagall fic. I actually started writing that one about 13 years ago and haven't updated in years, but I do plan to go back and rewrite based on stuff we now know is Canon but didn't know then so I can give it the proper ending it never got (and also fix all the bad writing of my teenage years... lol).


	14. June 30, 1997

**A/N:** There is a lemon at the end of this chapter. I struggled a little with giving enough information to keep it interesting without stepping out of the box that confines it to an M-rating. If you approve, great, but if you're offended, please let me know (PM is fine). It's definitely not any more explicit than many of the ADMM or HGSS Fics I've 'favorited' on this site, but still, I'd rather tone it back than lose readers, or worse… get reported/removed. Thanks! AL

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen – June 30** **th** **, 1997**

After nearly a year of knowing it would have to happen, and ten months after making the Unbreakable Vow with that knowledge in the back of his mind, Severus Snape finally carried out his orders and killed Albus Dumbledore.

There was a second's hesitation before he did it. He did not want to do it. He did not want to have to do it. But when Dumbledore pleaded with him, when he whispered, "Severus… Severus, please…" the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor knew what had to be done.

Gibbon was already dead, accidentally killed by Thorfinn Rowle, who later set fire to Hagrid's hut. Bill Weasley had been attacked by Greyback, the werewolf, possible fatally. The Carrow siblings were itching to create chaos, one even hit Potter with the Cruciatus, but they ceased when Snape demanded it.

The boy had then called him "Coward." Coward, after everything he'd done. After killing Dumbledore to spare the old man his dignity, after fulfilling his Vow to Narcissa, after saving Potter's own ass from Rowle and the Carrows and Greyback, all of whom would've liked nothing more than to take care of him themselves, to be called _coward_?

Snape had been furious. The boy was his father. James, incarnate. He looked like him, he talked like him, he acted like him. Aside from his eyes, where was Lily?

No, that wasn't fair. If Severus was being perfectly honest with himself, he could see Lily in her son. In the way he went stupidly out of his way to protect others. In the way he stuck up for fellow students like Longbottom rather than belittling or bullying them as his father would have.

But to try to use his own spells against him?

To call him COWARD?

No.

The boy had no idea.

No bloody clue.

None.

Damn it.

As planned, once far enough away to apparate, Rowle and the Carrows disappeared to a hideout they were using somewhere in Scotland, even Snape didn't know its exact location, while Greyback was to return to the underside of whatever rock he deserved to be hiding under. Snape and Draco returned post haste to Malfoy Manor to meet the Dark Lord, aware that there was a chance the Ministry might not be far behind.

Draco entered the home first, looking pale and shaken, clearly not having been as ready, willing, or able to commit murder as he'd spent the school year trying to convince himself he was.

"Mother?" he called. "Mummy?"

"Draco?" She'd been in the kitchen, sipping tea and eating biscuits she'd baked earlier, with no idea there had been any sort of commotion at the castle. She rushed into the hall. "Draco, darling!"

She hugged him tightly, catching the eye of Severus Snape over her son's shoulder. She regarded him with concern, not knowing exactly what her son's early return home meant. Had he completed the task? Or been found out and fled?

"It is done," said Snape softly.

"He's dead?" Narcissa held Draco away from her to take in his ashen face and horrified eyes. "You killed him?"

 _"He_ did it," said Draco softly, jerking his head toward Snape. "I… couldn't…"

His eye caught movement behind his mother, as a figure glided ominously down the hall, followed by a second, who was skipping merrily. The Dark Lord and Bellatrix.

"Draco, my boy," said the Dark Lord with false geniality. " You summoned me. He is dead?"

"Yes," Draco confirmed, pulling away from his mother, determined to look like a man and not the little boy he wanted to be instead, though subconsciously he rubbed at the Dark Mark on his left forearm, hidden by his long-sleeved shirt.

Bellatrix squealed and cackled with delight, clapping her hands.

"You did it? You did it?! Draco, you did it!" Suddenly her expression changed. "You did it?! Without me? I gave you all the advice I could. I've been waiting for your to call upon me! Why didn't you _say_ anything?" She removed a gold galleon from her pocket and looked it over thoroughly. "No message. Why not? Draco!"

"I did not want you there, Bella," said the Dark Lord. Her eyes widened. "I wanted the boy to do it for himself, not hide behind his all-too-eager Auntie."

She put on a pouty face but did not retort.

"Did he, Severus?" asked the Dark Lord, tenting His fingers. "Did he do it for himself?"

"He was going to, my Lord," said Snape, in his usual tone, as if discussing something as innocuous or basic as the weather or dinner plans. "But we hadn't much time. The Order of the Phoenix was there tonight. Between them and the staff and certain – bold – students, we were outnumbered. I entered the Astronomy Tower, where Draco had Dumbledore cornered, but he'd hesitated a second too long… Please do not misunderstand, my Lord, I am certain Draco would have done it, but Dumbledore is a powerful wizard. He _was_ a powerful wizard. Undoubtedly, the man would have been able to defend himself. Having the element of surprise was enough of a benefit – I was able to use the Killing Curse before he could raise his wand."

Draco's mouth dropped open. He didn't know what to say. Should he point out that he'd disarmed Dumbledore? Should he mention that the old man hadn't even been scared? That he seemed quite willing to welcome death, but was certain it would not be at Draco's hand, because he recognized the boy's innate unwillingness to carry out the deed?

No, Draco thought. Because if he admitted they'd spoken he would have to admit that he had been about ready to take Dumbledore up on his offer to hide him and Narcissa, to get them far away from this hell, and if the Dark Lord knew _that_ he'd surely kill them both.

These thoughts flew through Draco's head and in his current state he didn't remember to block his mind so the Dark Lord couldn't see his thoughts, but clearly Bellatrix realized this because her wand hand twitched ever so slightly and Draco doubled over, wheezing.

"Oh, the poor boy!" she exclaimed, rushing to his side to pound on his back. "Let it out, just a cough. Don't give it another _thought_." She pinched him, hard, while emphasizing that last word. He got the message, nodded, and stood up straight, no longer hacking. Narcissa appeared confused, but Snape, being a Legillimens, knew precisely what Bella was doing and why. Thankfully the Dark Lord was busy mulling over the death of The Only One He'd Ever Feared and didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.

"Come," He hissed, indicating they should follow. "Into the parlor. I must know exactly what happened, down to the last detail."

At this, Draco blanched, but Snape shot him a look that clearly told him to shape up and shake it off. This was not a time to let fear or regret show. He needed to save those emotions for later. Bellatrix, also aware of this, flashed him a tiny smile that she meant to be comforting, but it made the boy shiver.

The five of them made their way down the hall to the fourth door on the left, single-file in a row, no one speaking, not unlike a funeral procession.

"Not you," said the Dark Lord, blocking Narcissa from entering the parlor. "Only those who have received the Dark Mark are permitted beyond this point."

"But he's my son!" Narcissa cried.

"My Lord, please," said Bellatrix, grabbing his arm. "Let my sister in. She deserves to know exactly what happened!"

The Dark Lord threw up his hand, wrenching His arm away, and by some wordless, wandless magic Bellatrix was thrown backwards, against the wall. She scrambled immediately to her feet, hurriedly fixing her dress, but she looked most put out about her treatment.

"Not. You." The Dark Lord repeated, still blocking Narcissa from clearing the doorway. Defeated and afraid, Narcissa conceded.

"I will be in my bedroom when you're through, Draco," she said, her voice shaking. Just before the door closed she caught Snape's eye. She hoped he could hear her silently begging, 'Please don't let Him kill my baby.'

Once her faded footsteps told them she'd headed far enough down the hall to be out of earshot, the Dark Lord again asked for a full recap. This time, Draco obliged.

He explained about the Vanishing Cabinets, how he'd managed to get Death Eaters into the castle, how he'd used the enchanted coins to communicate with Rosmerta, who was under the Imperius Curse, and with his Auntie Bella and with Thorfinn Rowle. He admitted he didn't know that the Carrows, Gibbon, and Greyback would be the ones to come along, which made the Dark Lord chuckle.

"I know," He said, a twisted smile on His evil, pale face. His red eyes glistened madly. " _I_ chose them. Thorfinn and Gibbon are capable duelists, so I knew the pair of them together would be an asset. The Carrows simply _love_ children so I figured _they'd_ welcome a return to Hogwarts. And Fenrir Greyback… well, you know _he_ can't resist a battle, especially if there's the possibility of casualties… he really takes a _bite_ out of these sorts of assignments."

This seemed to be a source of great entertainment for the Dark Lord, and it amused Bella too, who giggled over the pun. Draco wouldn't say it, but he didn't find it funny or amusing in the least. He especially hadn't wanted Greyback there. Greyback scared him more than his aunt Bellatrix.

"Why not _me_ , my Lord?" she whined, still unable to get past this slight, even though He'd already explained. "I could've been there. I wouldn't have done it _for_ Draco, but I could've helped the boy. I could have played a bit with a student or two, or maybe that dreadful pussy cat Minerva McGonagall, Dumbledore's bitch. She failed me in Transfiguration seventh year. I hold grudges. I owe her a visit."

Bellatrix moved to stand behind Draco and place a light kiss on his shoulder, the way she often did to Narcissa, which made most people around them uncomfortable (save for Lucius, who liked it). Draco, for his part, stared straight ahead, ignoring his aunt.

"Couldn't I, Draco? Couldn't I have helped you?"

"My dear Bella," said the Dark Lord, indicating she should move closer to Him. "As I've already said, I would have sent you, but I could not trust you."

"Could not _trust_ me?" She pouted, clearly hurt. "You can _always_ trust me, my Lord. I'm your _most_ faithful. Your most _loyal._ I give you _everything._ You're my _Master_."

Snape fought an involuntary shudder at the way she said _Master_ , with so much love, so much desire. The disgusted look on Draco's face told Snape they were in agreement.

"But my dear Bella," hissed the Dark Lord. " _As I've previously stated_ , I was worried you would take it upon yourself to carry out the task, to save your nephew the trouble, and I could not have that. As for McGonagall… don't worry my dear. You'll see her soon enough, to see she gets what due, of that I'm certain."

"Yes, thank you, thank you my Lord!" Caught up in the emotion of the evening, she kissed Him on the cheek. In response, the Dark Lord shot her a look that clearly told her what she'd done was inappropriate. She blushed. "I'm sorry, my Lord! I got... carried away."

He looked as though He was about to punish her, but to everyone's surprise He put His arm around her waist and laughed. "It is not understandable, when faced with such happy news, to get carried away, but you shall exercise some semblance of self-control, Bellatrix."

"Yes, my Lord," she said, but she was gazing up at Him as lovingly as a bride on her wedding day.

Draco gagged, unable to help himself. Snape sighed.

"Did I displease you, my Lord, by taking matters into my own hands?"

"I am not happy about that, Severus. But since Dumbledore is dead, and dead is what I wanted, I will not punish you tonight. Any of you. Though I haven't the time to reward you either. We are going to have to disappear temporarily. Until the Ministry and Hogwarts are under our control – which should be soon – Aurors will be looking for us. You will stay here, Draco. I have orders for you, for how you should deal with the Ministry when they come to call. Severus, you are dismissed. I recommend you apparate first to your family home, gather what you need, and find a place to hide while awaiting the burning of your Dark Mark. When it is time for us to meet again, I shall summon you."

"What about me, my Lord?" asked Bellatrix, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Draco was having increasing difficulty hiding the utterly grossed out expression on his face, as he was only now realizing how in love with the Dark Lord his Auntie truly was. Snape caught his eye and shook his head ever-so-slightly, warning him that he should pretend not to notice, and certainly not comment on it.

"You will remain with me, Bella. As you said, you are my most loyal, my most faithful. Go, now. Tell your sister we will return as soon as it makes sense for us to do so. For good measure, assure her she will be reunited with her husband soon."

"Oh…" Bellatrix, who had looked so happy seconds ago upon learning the Dark Lord would be taking her with him, now appeared thoroughly disappointed. "Does this mean _my_ husband will be out of Azkaban soon too?"

"Don't you worry," the Dark Lord said, removing His arm from around her waist. "Inform your sister, then start packing."

"He's dead, my Lord," Bella said, eyes wide and full of a mix of madness and lust and excitement and relief and unadulterated joy, as if she was just now able to absorb the happy news. She giggled giddily. "Dumbledore's dead!"

Her expression brought a rare genuine grin to the Dark Lord's face, one that crinkled his red-slitted eyes.

"Indeed he is, Bella. I promise we will _celebrate_ this news as soon as we arrive at our temporary headquarters."

If it were possible, this made her face light up even more brightly.

It also made Draco go even whiter. His complexion now greatly resembled that of Professor Binns.

"Now go, my Bella. We haven't much time."

"Yes, my Lord!" On her way to the door she paused to plant a slow kiss on her nephew's cheek in a way that made an old Shakespeare line pop into Snape's head: "A little more than kin and less than kind." Catching Snape's eye, she winked flirtatiously at him, then practically floated from the room.

Draco did not react to any of this, choosing instead to continue staring silently ahead, appearing as though he might be in shock.

"The Killing Curse?" asked the Dark Lord, looking to Snape for reconfirmation, which the latter gave in the form of a curt nod. "Excellent. Is anyone else dead?"

"Possibly one member of the Order of the Phoenix, plus Gibbon. I didn't have the time to check."

Draco puffed out his chest, trying to appear braver than he felt, and also hoping no one would see the relief on his face when he learned that the body he stepped over wasn't a fellow student. As Dumbledore'd said – he was not a killer.

"You are dismissed, Severus," said the Dark Lord. "I wish to spend a few moments alone with the boy."

Again, Snape nodded curtly, but as soon as he was out of the Dark Lord's gaze, he shot a look at Draco and attempted to plant a thought in his head via Legillimency – "Close your mind."

Nearly imperceptibly, Draco nodded.

Once out of the room, Snape did not rush outside to the outskirts of the wards around Malfoy Manor so he could apparate to Spinner's End. Instead, he rushed to Narcissa's bedroom, hoping he wouldn't meet Bellatrix there.

Thankfully, when she opened the door, he saw that she was alone.

Clutching her chest with one hand, she yanked him through the door with the other.

"Please tell me He isn't punishing my son?"

"I don't think so. He seems pleased, even though He wanted Draco to do it and not me. He and Bellatrix are going to flee shortly, but He said to assure you they will return in due time."

"Oh, what a relief," snapped Narcissa. "I'd hate to live for too long under this roof _without_ my criminally insane sister and the man who tried to get my son murdered breathing over me and criticizing my cooking all the damn time." She let out a long, slow sigh. "Bella told me they'd be leaving shortly and I said I'd miss her but… Fuck, Severus. I just want my old bloody life back! I've been pacing since He cast me out and I feel like I'm going to explode or implode or collapse or, or, or _something._ I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but _something."_ She was trembling. He wanted to take her in her arms and reassure her everything would be fine, but he couldn't for two reasons. One: to show affection to her in this state of weakness for both of them could only be dangerous, and Two: he didn't know that everything would be fine. On the contrary, it was more likely _nothing_ would be.

"I'm going on the run, too," he informed her. "No doubt the Ministry will be after me."

"What about Draco?" She moved closer to him. He forced himself to neither back away nor move closer. They were almost touching.

"The Dark Lord ordered him to remain here. He is giving him instructions now in regards to how he should handle the impending inquiry of and questioning from Ministry."

"Why don't _you_ stay?" Narcissa asked, grabbing for him, clinging desperately to the front of his robes, the terror she felt within shining out through her gray eyes. "We'll be safer with you here."

"You'll be in far greater danger with me here," he corrected her, wriggling away from her grasp. "I am currently the most wanted man in the Wizarding world, perhaps even more so than the Dark Lord himself."

"They won't look for you here."

"They may."

"I'll hide you."

"You're talking mad."

There was a pause. She knew he was right. She turned away, hugging her arms around herself, trying to control her involuntary tremors.

"Is the Dark Lord angry with my son because _he_ didn't carry out the deed?"

"I believe He is impressed by the way Draco introduced Death Eaters into the school. He is now planning to take over both the Ministry and Hogwarts. He said to inform you that Lucius may be home soon."

She reached one hand up to twirl her two-toned hair around her index finger, biting her lip, glancing back at him with a worried expression over her shoulder. She blinked back tears.

Damn it.

He found her attractive.

"Would you have done it, Severus, if I hadn't forced you into make the Unbreakable Vow with me?"

The day he promised Dumbledore he'd do it flashed before his eyes. He didn't want to lie to her, but he couldn't tell her the full truth either. Finally, he answered, "It doesn't matter, does it? I _did_ make the Vow with you and I _did_ keep Draco safe and I _did_ carry out the deed. I did all I promised to."

"Thank you." She turned and moved close to him again, placing her hands on the front of his robes, but rather than holding on, she ran her hands up to his shoulders. "Thank you for keeping him alive. Thank you for keeping him from becoming a killer…" She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. Softly she added, "I owe you."

Given the circumstances, he was not capable of employing as much self-control as he usually could, but despite the difficulty (and a brief internal battle waged between two warring factions – basically boiling down to _Fuck or Flee_ ) he manage to withdraw from her embrace.

"You don't owe me _that_ ," he said.

"I do," she argued. "You've done as I've asked, you saved my son, in more ways than one. And now I owe you whatever you want from me, whatever I can give you, whatever you want me to _do_ , to show my gratitude…"

"You never _owe_ anybody sex, Narcissa," he snapped, but before he could explain why this bothered him, there was a knock at the door.

"Mother? May I enter?"

Snape and Narcissa exchanged a look of 'Oh shit.'

"Quick," she whispered. "Into the bathroom. Quietly."

She didn't have to tell him twice. He was sitting on the edge of the tub with the door shut and locked within seconds.

"Come in, darling."

"The Dark Lord is pleased," said Draco, as if he were trying to sound pleased too. "I used Vanishing Cabinets to get Death Eaters into the school. I placed Rosmerta under the Imperius Curse and communicated with her using enchanted coins, like the ones I gave to Auntie and Throfinn Rowle. I had the Dark Mark conjured up over the Astronomy Tower to lure Dumbledore there. I had my wand up when I sprung on him. I disarmed him. I was going to… I was going to kill him… I was going to…"

"But you didn't," she said, rushing to put her arms around him. "You didn't kill him."

"I couldn't," he admitted in a whisper, gray eyes darting toward the door as if afraid the Dark Lord would appear there. "I told him I was going to, but he knew I wouldn't. He knew I couldn't. He said… he said he could hide me. And you, Mother. He could hide us. He said he could send Order members here to hide you, but I knew… even if he tried… with the Dark Lord here… and Auntie Bella… they wouldn't stand a chance… and He'd know… and He'd kill you… Mummy…" Draco's shoulders shook as he dissolved into sobs.

Unable to bear her child's pain, Narcissa held him as tightly as she could, rocking him in her arms as they stood together near the door, holding back her own tears in an effort to be strong for him. She wished he were still little enough to pick up. She could vividly remember the last time he'd come to her crying as a little boy. He was about nine and he'd had a terrible nightmare. She gone to his bedroom and picked him up and held him in her lap, rocking him back and forth, even though Lucius said she was coddling him by doing so. Then she said he could sleep in their bed, which Lucius said would turn him funny. She remembered holding him, ignoring her husband, and assuring him it would all be alright now because Mummy's here and no monsters can get you if you've got your mother for protection.

She doubted the same reassurances would placate him now.

"Mother, do you think I'm weak?" Draco asked in a small voice. "Are you disappointed in me?"

"There's nothing weak about not wanting to commit murder, darling. I wanted him dead only because I didn't want you to continue to suffer so, but I don't know… I don't know if I could have killed… I don't know if I could kill anyone. Unless it was to save you."

"The day after my birthday, Auntie Bella sent a message to my coin. She said it came from the Dark Lord himself. He wanted to wish me a happy seventeenth birthday and remind me I had less than one month to complete my task. Then she said I had to do it and do it soon, because if I didn't, she would have to kill _you,_ and He would make me watch." So relieved that it hadn't come to that, Draco wept into his mother's shoulder, dampening her dress and she rubbed his back. "She said she didn't _want_ to have to kill you, so I'd better not fuck it up."

This broke Narcissa. She sobbed too, hardly able to catch her breath.

"Darling, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't been a better mother. I'm sorry you're in this mess. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

"What?" he asked through his tears, which he wiped away with his sleeve. "Why? You're a fine mother."

"If you want to flee," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands, "We could do it. We could leave tonight, after we're sure they're gone. We could run away and never come back."

"No!" Draco replied with conviction. "We can't. Without Dumbledore's word, the Order would never hide us, and we couldn't hide ourselves, not from the Dark Lord, He's too powerful. Plus, without Dumbledore, their side will crumble, Mother. The Ministry will fall and the Dark Lord will take over. Plus He says for our continued loyalty He will reward us handsomely, and see to it that Father is freed soon. _This_ is where we should be, where we shall remain."

Draco stood up straight, resigned to this fact, as if he had a new outlook on the situation. "I already bear the Dark Mark, Mother. I am of age. I am the man of the house now, until Father returns. And I think the smart thing for us to do is continue to serve the Dark Lord as well as we can." Offhandedly, he added, "Beats a lifetime in Azkaban."

"Yes," she said softly. She kissed his cheek, but in a strictly maternal fashion, not the slightly predatory way her sister had done. "What now?"

"I'm going to bed. The Dark Lord doesn't think they'll come before morning."

"I have Dreamless Sleep. Do you want it?" She reached into her top dresser drawer and pulled out a small vile of potion, holding it out to him. She used to give him small doses of it as a boy, for the bad dreams. To her surprise, she shook his head.

"I'm not a child. I can live with my memories, even if they turn into nightmares. Goodnight, Mother." He leaned forward as if to hug her, but changed his mind and squeezed her hand instead. Not like her little boy. Like a man. The action brought tears back to her eyes.

"Goodnight, Draco."

Once he was out of the room and the door was both locked and charmed impenetrable, she called for Severus.

"Did you hear that?"

"I did."

She took in a sharp breath. Her hands were shaking so hard he thought she might drop the vile. For the first time in all the years he'd known her, she was looking at him with fear.

"Are you going to tell… the Dark Lord… what I said? About fleeing?"

He was hurt by her inquiry but tried not to show it, choosing instead to adjust his robes in the mirror, as if he cared very little about this question and what asking it meant.

"Of course not, Narcissa," he said coolly. "I'd think you'd know me better than that by now. Why do you have Dreamless Sleep?"

"To stave off the nightmares, of course. Mother had them, so I used to brew it for her, and then Draco had them when he was younger… and I've always had them… since I was five…" She avoided eye contact, embarrassed that he knew the subject of her bad dreams.

"I should go."

She nodded, but he only took two steps before the door before she said, "I don't want you to go."

He paused, facing away from her, his hand extended toward the doorknob.

"I don't want to go."

"Spend the night."

"You know I can't."

She did know. She sighed, placing the potion back in her drawer.

"Fine. Then kiss me goodbye."

His extended hand dropped to his side but still he did not turn to face her.

"Narcissa…" he began in a warning tone.

"You can't kiss me goodbye either?"

"You know I can't."

"Why not?" She moved to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He knew he shouldn't, but he placed his hands on top of hers, comfortable in her embrace.

"Because if I kiss you goodnight, I'll end up staying the night."

"Because you want me?"

"You know I do."

She pressed her lips to his shoulder, then moved aside his hair, balanced on her toes, and kissed the back of his neck. "It's been over a month."

"I'm aware." Stoically he stood, contemplating his next move.

"We don't have to _do_ anything. I just don't want to be alone. Severus?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for what I said."

Now he turned to face her, removing her arms from his waist, but holding both of her hands in his. "What?"

"About the boy's eyes. I didn't mean it… and I didn't know… I didn't know he had his mother's eyes."

"I don't want to talk about her." Flashes of that night assaulted him. Watching Dumbledore tumble from the tower. Running from the castle. His own spells thrown at him by Potter. Being called a Coward. Stopping one of the Carrows from torturing the boy. Confessing to being the Half-Blood Prince. Hating Harry for being like his father.

Hating Harry for being like his mother.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa whispered again, withdrawing her hands from his. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Resigning himself to the fact that he was – yet again – probably about to make a massive mistake as far as she was concerned, he slid one hand around her waist to rest on her the small of her back and drew her in close to him.

"I'll be gone before sunrise," he said.

Understanding his meaning, she slid her own hand up his chest and around to the back of his neck, pulling him down to her.

He pressed his lips to hers, which parted, to grant access to his tongue, which flicked in, demanding the attention of hers, before retreating so he could nip lightly at her lower lip before capturing her mouth with his again. She moaned, melting into him, in need of more.

Damn.

It had been too damn long.

He grunted, trying to find a way to fix his body so it was even more flush against hers, desperate for the release of all the conflicting emotions that had been threatening to overwhelm him since he uttered the words "Avada Kedavra" a couple of hours earlier.

Meanwhile she was desperate to feel anything that wasn't worry, or sadness, or crippling fear. The hand on the back of his neck grasped a fist full of his hair, more aggressively than she'd ever done before, which he found he liked. In response, he brought his free hand up and placed it on her throat, his thumb pressing against the center. Her breath quickened, becoming erratic. She waved her wand and the only light in the room was extinguished.

"Do you still want me all the fucking time?" she asked, as his mouth moved focus to a spot under her ear, then the side of her neck, and finally the front of her throat, just above his still-pressing thumb. Her hand was still entangled in his hair.

"So badly it's painful." He growled his answer, roughly grabbing the front of her dress. "I want this off."

"Very well." She flicked her wand down from her sleeve and tapped the tip against her chest, whispering a word he could not understand. Her dress disappeared, leaving her in a pale pink skirt-slip matching bra.

"Did you Vanish it?" he asked, perplexed and momentarily distracted.

She shook her head, pointed her wand at the dresser, and gave it a second flick. The dress reappeared, folded, on her dresser. Smiling almost smugly, she did the same to his robes.

"Not exactly dead useful," she said, "Since I don't typically fold my clothes when I take them off, but impressive enough for the moment."

" _Very_ impressive," he said genuinely. His hands made their way from her waist to her rib cage, stopping just under the band of her bra. "Saves me the time of ripping it off you and you the trouble of mending it later."

She flushed, her cheeks going pink. He was in a more aggressive mood than she'd seen previously, presumably because he – like her – was full to the brim with conflicting and confusing and colliding emotions. She was overwhelmed by relief and gratitude as her year-long anxiety was replaced by a new type of fear, a fear she wasn't ready to face yet, and she wanted to express her profound thanks, and she wanted to be wanted. He, on the other hand, was full of previously dormant adrenaline, he'd completed the task, he'd not broken the Vow, he'd kept his word to Dumbledore… but he'd also killed Dumbledore… and like Narcissa, he didn't want to feel the weight of all that, not yet, not right now. No, he wanted to feel… he wanted to feel alive.

Hungrily, he took to her neck and chest and shoulders with his lips and teeth and tongue, as his hands worked their way down her back, resting on her ass, grinding her toward him.

"I'll do anything…" she said, tipping her head back to grant him better access to the center of her throat. "Anything you want. I owe you."

"As I already informed you, you do not _owe_ me," he vehemently reminded her, but because he couldn't help himself, he added, "I want you on your knees."

She complied immediately, and, as she had that evening in the kitchen last Halloween, she took him in her mouth, an act at which she was rather inexperienced, though he felt she more than made up for that with her enthusiasm and effort. He grasped one of the bed's tall posts and closed his eyes as she sucked and stroked him. When he knew he couldn't handle another moment, he halted her, pulled her to her feet, and pressed her back against the post he'd been holding. Then, to her surprise, he dropped to his own knees, slid down her underwear, shoved up the slip, and threw her right leg over his shoulder. She kept her balance by holding onto the post behind her as he returned the favor, teasing her with his tongue, causing a buildup of pressure in both her brain and in the pit of her stomach and there… there… where he was kissing her, licking and rubbing her.

"It's okay… it's alright… it's fine…" she assured herself aloud. He tried to continue his ministrations without breaking focus to laugh. "It's okay… yes… yes… it's okay…" Why she needed to give herself this reassuring pep-talk nearly every time she was close to orgasm he didn't understand, but he continued to find it endearing. "Oh, Severus… yes! Yes! It's okay…"

Once she'd reached completion, he picked her up and deposited her on the bed. She leaned back on her elbows, facing up at him, expecting him to climb on top of her, but instead he flipped her to her stomach and snaked his hand around to between her legs. She could feel his arousal against the back of her thigh.

"May I undress you?" he asked, though it was dark in the room, which was usually all she'd asked of him within the last six months.

"Yes," she whispered, moving to unclasp her bra.

"No, I'll do it."

Once her bra and slip were discarded on the floor, he placed a trail of kisses across her back and shoulder blades. She grinded against his palm as he entered her with his fingers.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "Fucking beautiful."

"I need you," she pleaded. "Now. I need you now."

"What do you want?" he asked, speeding up the movement of his fingers. "Tell me."

She could barely breathe well enough to answer him. "I need… you… I want… you… inside me… now…"

"Very well."

He entered her from behind, then moved them both into a seated position, so that her back was flush against his chest, and, with his hands on her hips to guide her, she began to move.

As they found their rhythm, he kept one hand on her hip and moved the other to her breast, as his mouth found it its way back to that spot where her shoulder met her neck.

"Severus," she moaned. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Do not speak of it again, Narcissa," he said, still fondling her, not wanting to willing to discuss their brief falling out. "It's in the past."

"You're not still angry with me?"

He laughed, placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder, and lifted her from his lap, turning her to face him. "You're asking me _now_ if I'm still angry?"

"Well?" she asked earnestly, twirling her hair. "Are you?"

He shook his head. "Narcissa." He kissed her briefly on the lips. "My Narcissa."

She brought her hands up to cradle his face, her lips millimeters from his. "You've never called me yours before."

"I've never felt like you were mine before," he said, "But right now, in this moment, you are."

"Yes," she whispered, staring into his dark eyes, completely lose in _him_. "I am." She pulled him to her and, kissing, she fell backwards onto the bed, taking him with her. He entered her again. She wrapped her legs around him and met him thrust-for-thrust, not wanting the night to end, knowing he would have to be gone before the dawn. He finished inside her, though it occurred to him hours later he should have confirmed that she had the birth control potion currently brewed and in her possession so they wouldn't end up with another accident. Contentedly, they fell asleep together, her with her head on his chest, him with his arms around her. Safe, for the moment.

Neither knew that – hundreds of miles away – the Dark Lord and His most faithful, most loyal servant, Bellatrix, were engaged in the same, though their coupling was entirely in celebration of the death of Dumbledore, not with any one of the many mixed emotions felt by Narcissa Malfoy or Severus Snape.

That night, the night Dumbledore died, one of the Black sisters became pregnant.

And it wasn't Andromeda.


	15. July 27, 1997

**Chapter Fifteen – July 27** **th** **, 1997**

"Narcissa?"

"Yes, dear?" Narcissa rolled over in bed to face her husband. He'd been home from Azkaban for a couple of weeks, but was still having a difficult time adjusting.

"Do you have any of that Dreamless Sleep?"

She climbed out from under the covers, making her way to the dresser, where she kept that potion in the top right hand drawer. "Yes, of course, dear."

She summoned him a glass, used Aquamenti to fill it with water, and handed him both that and the potion vial. He sat up, leaning against the ornate carved headboard between two of the four posts, and sighed.

"Nightmares?" she asked, huddling back under the covers, wondering how it was possible that their bedroom could be so cold in late July even with a fire going in the fireplace. She touched his arm and was surprised to discover how warm he was. She looked more closely at his face. He was sweating. She pulled the heavy quilt away from his side onto hers. It wasn't really the room that was cold, she realized. It was _her_. She felt like she had ice running through her veins instead of blood. It was an unnerving sensation.

"Not exactly," he answered, having downed the entire glass of water following the potion. "But I'm unable to stay asleep. In Azkaban, the wailing would wake me every hour. When I close my eyes, I feel as though I'm back there."

"I'm sorry." She took the empty vile and glass, placed them on her bedside table, and kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth. "I hope Dreamless Sleep will ease your mind so you can get some rest."

"Did you miss me when I was away?" asked Lucius. Narcissa's lips formed a sad sort of smile. He'd asked her that every single night since his return and always she answered the same way.

"I missed you more than I ever thought it possible to miss someone."

"Okay," he said, placated for the time being.

She kissed him again, this time on the cheek. "Now go to sleep, darling."

Once his breathing had slowed and deepened, indicating he was at last comfortably experiencing the REM cycle, she tried to do the same, but sleep eluded her. Finally, shortly before dawn, she gave up, rose from the bed, wrapped the quilt around her shivering body (wishing she knew the incantation to the warming charm Severus had used on her after their little make-out in the snow), and slipped down to the kitchen. The Manor was silent and still, as the house elves had finished their work and retired to their dusty little room hidden away behind the smaller of the two closets in the long-unused nursery, to awaken only after sunrise.

Just before entering the kitchen, Narcissa glanced in the hall mirror and was instantly depressed by the site that greeted her. She had dark circles around her eyes and heavy bags under them, her complexion was blotchy and dull, and she was starting to look her age. As had been the case every night since Lucius' return, after assuring him she'd missed him and kissing him and waiting for him to fell asleep, she was tormented by her own guilt-induced insomnia, which Dreamless Sleep could not cure, and clearly it was taking its toll on her looks.

Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - she had not seen nor heard from Severus since he departed at sunrise the morning after killing Dumbledore. She half-wished she'd returned his enchanted notebook, but an equal part of her was glad not to have anything to hide, at least not for the moment.

That night, when he'd called her _his_ , when they'd made love and she maybe might have _fallen_ a little in love... it plagued her now.

It was supposed to have been an emotion-free affair between two friends, one of whom was frustrated over the lack of attention from her husband, and the other was welcoming of a regular lay with no ulterior motives or attachments. She wanted a listening ear and someone to want her. He wanted… well, she wasn't sure what exactly he wanted, but she knew when it came to wanting her what he desired was physical, not romantic. At least, she was pretty sure that was all he wanted.

But he'd called her "My Narcissa."

And he'd spent the night in her bed.

Holding her.

The way her husband used to.

The way Lucius used to before he stopped simply having sex on the side and started having actual affairs, because apparently he hadn't learned his lesson when that awful Endora Selwyn fell for him (which was not reciprocated, he assured Narcissa) and subsequently committed suicide rather than recover from his rejection.

He used to hold her every night until she fell asleep. It made her feel safe.

When had he stopped?

At least a year before his imprisonment.

Two years ago.

Back when she spent her free time playing the "Who is My Husband Fucking Now?" game in her head, making lists.

Before she offered herself up to Snape.

But that night, the night Dumbledore died, Severus held her in his arms the entire night, until he slipped out before sunrise.

After he said she was his.

 _He clarified it, though,_ Narcissa reminded herself. _He quantified it._

He didn't say she was his _always_ or _forever_ or even _in general_.

He had said, "Right now, in this moment, you are."

 _Right now._

 _In this moment._

My Narcissa.

 _In this moment._

What did _that_ mean?

Ugh.

Sometimes she hated being so quintessentially female, caught up in dissecting the emotions and actions of others, wondering what the subtext was, if there even was subtext, and worrying over whether one's intentions were in line with her own.

She'd had this issue with Lucius many times throughout their marriage.

They'd have a conversation that would leave her anxious and upset for days, as she replayed it over and over and over again in her head, trying to see the situation from every angle, only to finally rehearse when and where and how to bring it up to him, certain their marriage was at the brink of collapse, only for him to respond with, "Huh?" because he had zero recollection about the incident or conversation to which she was referring. As it turned out, "I don't feel like it," could sometimes mean, "I don't feel like it" and "I'm fine" could sometimes mean "I'm fine" and that's that.

Damn it.

As quietly as she could so as not to wake anyone, Narcissa threw the quilt over her chair, set the kettle on the stove, took out a tea bag, and helped herself to some of the apple crisp she'd baked the morning before.

To her pleasant surprise, instead of giving her a hard time about making it, Lucius ate it in place of lunch and assured her it was delicious, though he couldn't resist pointing out that she "didn't need" to be in the kitchen in the first place.

She didn't care. "Didn't need" was much softer than "Stay out" and "Delicious" was a fat lot better than "Nagini could make it better" so she was content for the moment, at least in that regard.

As she waited for the water in the kettle to reach boiling point, she wondered if she was experiencing (to a lesser degree) the sort of hero-worship her sister felt for the Dark Lord. Bella viewed Him as the wizard who altered the course of her entire life, the one who took her away from their mother's home and saved her from Stepfather. The man who assigned her a suitable husband, who showed her how special she was not only to be a member of the Sacred 28, but to then become one of His most trusted followers, unusual at such a young age, the first female to receive the Dark Mark. As far as Bellatrix was concerned, the Dark Lord had turned her from manic-depressive, self-injuring, man-hating, too-smart-for-her-peers teenager with no direction and a talent for useless things like Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, into a woman with direction and purpose and status within in His ranks, a woman whose uncommon knack for throwing off Unforgivable Curses and blocking her mind turned out to be incredibly valuable, as He taught her Occlumency and Legillimency and how to actually cast those curses she'd only ever been the recipient of before. Bellatrix looked on the Dark Lord with unrequited love in her eyes because He saved her. He was her savior.

And now Narcissa worried she was doing the same thing, but with Severus, and not because he'd saved her, but because he'd saved her son.

Which, she reminded herself, was basically the same, since she'd have died without Draco.

Not because Bellatrix would have quite possibly had to kill her, but because knowing her son was gone would have killed her. No Avada Kedavra necessary.

So no, she wasn't in love. Not real love.

She was… lost.

She was lost.

The kettle began to whistle. She removed it from the burner quickly, so the sound wouldn't wake anyone, and poured the hot tea into her mug, filtering out the leaves, then added milk.

She had to stop thinking about it, to stop thinking about him. He was gone. On the run, like her sister and the Dark Lord. Who knew when he'd return?

And in the interim, she was determined to be a better wife than she'd been before Lucius went to Azkaban, primarily because he needed her. He wasn't himself. A year in the Wizarding prison under the control of Dementors had affected him, even though, as Severus had once said, it wasn't as if Lucius had the sort of childhood trauma to relive in his head that Bella, Narcissa, and even Snape himself had endured.

She didn't ask Lucius what he'd thought about in there. She couldn't. Not when he seemed so tired, so broken. But she was curious. Insanely curious. Had he thought about her? Had he worried about the fate of his wife and his son? Had he felt any guilt over hurting her with his many trysts? Had he replied in his head his father's funeral, or his disappointment when she'd had her first miscarriage, or the day he stopped Narcissa from smothering Draco? (Not that she would have done it, she always assured herself. She wasn't _seriously_ going to do it. Of course not.)

She knew it was selfish and petty, but it bothered her that since her husband's return he seemed even less interested in listening to her than he'd been in their nearly thirty years together before Azkaban. She tried to explain to him the worry and fear she'd felt over Draco's task, a topic she'd broached with Severus countless times, but he waved her away like a pesky fly, insisting it was over and he didn't need to know about it. She tried to tell him how much she enjoyed cooking, especially since she was finally starting to get good at it (deserts seemed to be more her forte than main courses) but he patronizingly reminded her that it wasn't her necessary for her to have a job, or even a hobby, and that the kitchen was a house elf's place. She even tried to engage him in gossip about her niece, Nymphadora, Andromeda's daughter, who was rumored to be dating the werewolf, Remus Lupin, but he told her he didn't care to hear about her disgraceful ex-relatives.

She found herself not only missing Severus, but Bellatrix too. Though her sister made her nervous, and though she wasn't sure she'd ever come to terms with the fact that Bella had told Draco she would have to be the one to kill Narcissa while he watched (should he fail to complete the task) she longed for the simpler days they'd spent together in the last year, like when Bellatrix braided her hair, and when she read aloud to Narcissa from the book Cissy gave her for her birthday. It was a novel, purchased at the same Hogsmeade store where she'd gotten Severus' present (the place where she'd first seen the Dark Lord talking to Bella) but she found it in the small backroom fiction section. She hadn't been sure whether Bella would like it – a mystery about a pureblood witch who discovers someone is kidnapping Muggle-born magical babies and decides to investigate when the Ministry won't – but she seemed to, and they'd read as far as chapter thirteen together before the night Dumbledore died. Narcissa had searched for it in her sister's room a few days later, but it appeared she'd taken it with her.

With her husband's disapproval of her spending too much time in the kitchen, and her sister gone, with no book to read (or listen to), and her affair over (at least for now), plus Draco hiding away in his room all the time exchanging Owls with that awful Pansy Parkinson, Narcissa was bored.

She supposed bored was better than consumed by fear, but still… she was going stir-crazy, as Bella had complained about a couple of months earlier. Going out was inadvisable because everyone knew her husband had been broken out of Azkaban, but the Dark Lord had not yet taken full control of the Ministry, which meant she was stuck in a precarious position, mother of the boy who _almost_ killed Dumbledore, but not a Death Eater herself but the wife of one.

Lucius.

Her thoughts circled back to her husband.

She needed to be a better wife.

He'd been home for over two weeks and she'd barely touched him. She'd kissed him the night he returned, and she'd been kissing him since, but usually it was a quick peck on the lips or the cheek or the jaw line. She wasn't romantic. She didn't try to entice or arouse him.

Not that he seemed to want her to. He'd made no attempts to touch her, not intimately, not at all. He'd never neglected her quite so much, not even that time they went months and months and months without sex, because this neglect went beyond sex. He acted as though there was a barrier between them in bed, one she should not cross. He wouldn't even hug her or kiss her good morning or sit beside her on the couch. It was as if they were strangers.

She had a feeling this was her fault, not his. Her feelings for Severus, whatever they may be, kept her from connecting with her husband, and she was certain he could sense it. That was probably why he had no interest in her despite having been apart for so long. That had to be it.

So she'd do better. She'd be attentive. Loving. Doting. She wouldn't talk too much – he hated when she talked too much – but she'd make it clear she was available to him in any way he should need at any time. That's what Mother would advise. That's how a wife should behave.

Narcissa was engrossed in her thoughts, ignoring her now-cold tea, when the smash of glass against the wall opposite her made her jump. She leapt from her chair, knocking it to the floor, and swiveled around, wand out, not sure who she'd see but hoping she wasn't about to be attacked.

There in the doorway stood Lucius, with a furious expression on his unshaven face that instantly frightened her. She'd never seen him this way, with eyes as mad as her sister's, glaring at her as if he wanted nothing more than to curse her into the next century.

"You bitch."

"Wh… what's wrong? What did I do?"

"What's this?"

In his hand he held not the snake headed walking stick that held his wand, but three vials of potion. He slammed them down on the table. She realized then what had broken – he must have thrown the fourth one against the wall.

It was the birth control potion, all she had left of it.

"I woke up. I hadn't had a nightmare but I thought one might be coming, so I went to your drawer in search of more Dreamless Sleep. Instead, I found this. Did you think I wouldn't recognize it?"

Her pale face was ashen and her hands were shaking. She felt dizzy. Scared. Sick. What defense could she give?

"It's… not what you think, darling."

"No?" He strode toward her, grabbing her by both of her upper arms, holding her so tight she was sure he would leave bruises. "Then what is it? Because it appears you've been brewing a birth control potion."

"I… I _have_ been brewing it…"

"Who is he?"

"There's…" She searched for an excuse, any excuse. "There's… it's not what you think."

"You already said that. Who is he?"

"I… I'm not…"

"You fucking slag." He threw her down to the kitchen floor. She scrambled back against the cabinets, hugging her knees her to chest, afraid to try to stand, wanting to make herself as small as possible.

"Please, Lucius…" Her voice trembled. "Please, just listen…"

"I've been locked away for a year! This potion's only good a few months. When it goes bad, it turns dark purple. This is lavender. This is not bad. This is not old."

"I…" She was desperate, but she couldn't think of a single deflection. "It's not what you think," she said again, weakly.

"Stop telling me it's not what I think and tell me what it is! You've been whoring yourself out while I've been rotting away, chained up in that prison?"

"No, darling, please…"

"Get up." He grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her roughly to her feet. She hardly dared even breathe. They'd had fights before, they'd had a massive row the night she stood over baby Draco whilst holding that pillow, but he'd never been violent toward her, not ever, never even raised a hand as if contemplating it. He shoved her toward the table. She held onto it, her thumbs underneath, needing its help to keep herself steady.

"I want an explanation," he demanded.

She stared down at her tea, lost for words. "I'm sorry," she finally mumbled.

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to make eye contact with him. "You'll look at me when you're speaking to me. You've been brewing a birth control potion, and I want to know why."

"You're scaring me," she whispered, her steel gray eyes meeting his icy blue ones, and for a second, his expression softened. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but the relief was short lived, for he summoned his walking stick, the one with the snake head at the top of the handle, from where it leaned against the door frame, and slammed that snake head down on the back of her right hand, which was still on the table. She yelp, clutching her right hand to her chest with her left one, certain he'd broken all of the bones in it. He let the ornate centuries-old cane clatter to the floor.

"This is the last chance I will give you to answer me, Narcissa, and if you are unable to sufficiently do so, I will order you to leave my home. Tonight." Again he grabbed her roughly by the arm, this time with only his left hand, while wrapping his free right hand around her throat, applying slight pressure, just enough to make her even more nervous. "Now, Narcissa, _why_ do you have four vials of birth control potion squirreled away in our bedroom?"

Her eyes filled with tears as she mentally scolded herself for crying all the damn time. She was so fixated on his face, on his eyes, on what she could possibly tell him, and on being grateful he wasn't a Legillimens, that she didn't realize they were no longer alone until the witness in the doorway spoke.

"It's mine, Lucius. I'm rubbish at potions, always have been, so Cissy brews it for me."

"Bella!" Not in all her adult years had Narcissa been so relieved to see her older sister, her childhood protector.

"Yours?" asked Lucius, turning slowly toward her, taking his hand down from his wife's throat but not slackening his grip on her arm. "If I'm not mistaken, your husband has been in Azkaban as long as I have, and still has not seen you since his return two weeks ago."

"Yeah, well, you know me, love," she said casually, offhandedly. "I'm the Dark Lord's whore, as you like to remind my baby sister every time the green-eyed monster bubbles up from within to remind you who His favorite is. Now would you mind summoning up some wine for me? I haven't had a drink in nearly a year and I could damn well use one. Have a house elf bring it to my room. Oh, and did I mention the Dark Lord's back? He's getting settled in His wing upstairs as we speak, plus putting new wards around this place. Seemed necessary. It was far too easy for us to break in."

"His… His w-wing?" asked Lucius. "Wh-what… wh-where… uh…?"

"Very attractive, that stutter you developed," she said, half-smirking. "Pick that up in Azkaban, did you? I suppose the weaker you are, the worse it affects you. I did almost fourteen years, managed to come out of it with both my wits intact and without losing my ability to put together a coherent sentence. Fancy that."

If Narcissa wasn't feeling so grateful to Bellatrix for the interruption, she might have pointed out that it hadn't been that easy to Bella to transition from prison life to the real world, but she bit her tongue. Or, more accurately, she bit her lip. She would've twirled her hair too, but she was still massaging her sore right hand.

"Completely unrelated, Cissy, darling, you'll never guess what I learned tonight! Turns out our filthy Mudblood niece married that pathetic werewolf a week ago. Disgusting, isn't it? Bet they'll be having furry little babies in no time. You should ship them a vial of that potion."

"What are you doing here, Bellatrix?" asked Lucius, finally releasing Narcissa's arm.

"We have a mission tonight, Lucius. Less than twenty-four hours away. Now that we've more or less got the Ministry under control, we're going to kill the Potter boy." Her half-smile grew into a grin. "Kill him dead. Dead, dead, dead!" She giggled, as giddy as she'd been the last time Cissy saw her, the night Dumbledore died. "The Order is moving the boy before his birthday, not waiting for the Ministry, but thanks to a little tip from that two-timing twat Severus Snape, we know the where and when and we'll be ready for him. So rest up, Malfoy. Big night ahead. It's so good to see you again. You too, Cissy." Bellatrix blew her a kiss. Narcissa, too stunned by all of this to speak, simply nodded.

"Oh, and I'll take those!" She wandlessly summoned the three remaining vials the table to her hand and slipped them into the pocket of the long coat she wore. Her jovial expression abruptly disappeared, replaced by a dark, serious look. "In the future, Lucius, do me a favor? Keep your vile hands _off_ my baby sister. If I learn you've hurt her, _I'll_ hurt _you_. Understand?" Her smile returned. She winked playfully as if she hadn't just levied a threat against him. "Ciao!" Then she exited, letting the door slam shut behind her.

"Is that true?" asked Lucius, turning slowly back to his wife, unable to process the upcoming mission at the moment.

"Yes," said Narcissa, her voice and hands still shaking. "I'd been brewing it for her. That's all that was left… I guess she didn't take it when she had to flee. There wasn't time, I suppose, or maybe she didn't know where to find it, or didn't think she'd need it."

"My dear," he said, taking her in his arms, ignoring the stiffness of her limbs as he hugged her. "Why didn't you just tell me that?"

"I don't know," she answered, voice shaking. "I tried, but she wanted it kept quiet, and you looked so angry… I was afraid…"

"You never need to be afraid of me, Narcissa." He brought her injured hand up to his lips and kissed it. "Come, let's go back to bed. We have a couple of hours."

"Alright." She started to put away her tea things, but he laughed.

"Let the house elves get that." He snapped his fingers and one of them appeared with a POP. "Clean the kitchen, then deliver a bottle of red wine to Bellatrix in whichever room she's claimed as her own."

"Yes, Master Malfoy, sir," squeaked the little elf.

Lucius picked up his walking stick and took Narcissa's hand. "Come along."

"Yes, darling." On the way out, she grabbed the quilt from the floor, leaving the chair on its side.

He led her back to their bedroom. She crawled under the covers, hoping to get some sleep, but he was no longer in the mood for that. He positioned himself on top of her, kissing her, removing her nightdress…

She kept her eyes closed while they had sex, mentally reminding herself over and over that she'd just an hour or so ago promised to be a better wife, but at the same time unable to shake the feeling she was cheating.

On Severus.

She felt like she was cheating on Severus.

Fuck.

After he had finished and they had both fallen asleep for a little while, they awoke, showered, dressed, and had brunch in the dining room with Draco, who was less than thrilled to have the Dark Lord back at Malfoy Manor, and Bellatrix, who was singing to herself over her eggs and toast, still in an overly happy mood about the upcoming assignment.

A couple of hours later, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange arrived at Malfoy Manor with Muggle Studies professor Charity Burbage propped up between them, bound, gagged, bleeding from what looked like a blunt-force injured to her forehead. She was unable to speak, but clearly terrified.

They'd kidnapped her a week earlier, on the Dark Lord's order, Rodolphus explained to the Malfoys. Narcissa's stomach knotted as she thought of all the woman might have experienced in those seven days alone with the Lestrange brothers. Narcissa wasn't sure if the fact that Bella hadn't been with them should be a comfort, knowing (thanks to Snape) more than she cared to, regarding what her sister was capable of.

The Dark Lord touched his Dark Mark to summon the rest of His inner circle to Malfoy Manor, including Severus, who arrived last, and late. It was the first time he and Narcissa had seen each other in weeks, but they couldn't speak of it. They couldn't speak of anything, not even offer a polite hello. Narcissa avoided eye contact, certain if she looked at him she would give her feelings away to the entire room.

The Dark Lord levitated Charity Burbage above the table using the wand He'd taken from Lucius, who clearly hadn't been interested in giving up his elm and dragon heartstring, which he'd had since his father died, passing the thousand year old heirloom down to him. Draco had taken it (inside the walking stick) with him to Hogwarts for the year his father was in prison, but now that he was free, Lucius had finally been reunited with it and hadn't seem keen to hand it over - not that he'd had a choice. When the Dark Lord asks, His followers don't say no.

As unassumingly as she could manage, Narcissa looked the Muggle Studies professor over. Charity Burbage was a little older, maybe mid-forties, with dirty blonde hair and an average-sized frame, white but not pale, and neither attractive nor unattractive, though she probably looked better when she wasn't filthy and abused.

Once Severus had joined them, taking the only empty seat, he, too, looked over the Muggle Studies professor. Narcissa watched his expression carefully out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to regard the woman as if she were no more significant to him than a gnat.

Narcissa couldn't help remembering the way Severus had teased her on his birthday, telling her how _friendly_ Charity had wanted to get with him. For the first time, Narcissa wondered whether he'd made that up, or exaggerated it, in an attempt to make her jealous. It had worked then and it was still working now, which was absolutely absurd – feeling jealous of the tortured woman who was hovering above them, scared for her life, about to be murdered? Narcissa fought the urge to bite her lip, thinking, "I truly am a horrible person.'

The Dark Lord was introducing the professor to His Death Eaters. Narcissa willed herself to pay attention.

"Her speciality was Muggle Studies," He said, which earned a little laugh from some of His followers. "…To her the mixture of magical and Muggle blood is not an abomination, but to be encouraged..."

Narcissa could not move, could not blink.

Nor did Snape.

"Severus…" Charity Burbage pleaded, looking to him to be her savior, looking at him the way Narcissa had the day she begged him to make the Unbreakable Vow. "Severus, please… we're friends."

It was over in a flash of green light. Her body hit the table with a sickening thud. Nagini slithered up to make a meal of her, this woman whose only crime was writing a Daily Prophet article about the importance of getting along with Muggles (and the perceived notion that she advocated mating with them). Narcissa fought down the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, forcing her face to remain expressionless, as uncaring as the rest, trying to block out the sounds of the snake devouring His kill.

But she couldn't help glancing again at Severus.

He, like Narcissa, was blank-faced, almost as if bored.

Had the Muggle Studies professor truly been his friend?

She wished she could ask him.

She wished she could talk to him.

She wished she could be held by him.

But she couldn't. She'd vowed to be a better wife. She was determined to be a better wife. She owed it to Lucius, after the year he'd had in Azkaban. During sex that morning, he'd assured her that he missed her as much as she'd missed him, and promised he would not neglect her as he'd done before his arrest. He told her he loved her and she'd said it back.

Now she rubbed her bruised hand, keeping it under the table so no one would see the purple mark or the swelling, and continued to look anywhere but at Severus.

"Tonight!" hissed the Dark Lord triumphantly. "Tonight, we shall kill Harry Potter."

* * *

 **A/N:** Over the next week I may have to post every other day instead of every day (likely Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday) then I will be back to normal – daily except Sundays – the following week. Sorry for this… in my real life I write books for children and the deadline for my latest (last!) round of manuscript edits is due October 28th so I'm a bit swamped! **AL**

 **Everything Hurts** : I wanted that kiss on the temple to be an awkward sort of placating thing in a momentary lapse of judgment due to happiness over Dumbledore's death, not actually a romantic thing, but I'm guessing from your comment that it didn't come across that way so I went back and edited it somewhat because I agree that the Dark Lord wouldn't show Bellatrix affection in front of them (or in general, for the most part). Hope it's better now!  
 **Firetemplar415** : Your comment cracked me up because the other day my little ones' friends' mom was explaining to the kids what fanfiction is and she said, "It's like if you wanted to write a story about Dobby, and all the crazy stuff Dobby does when he's not working. You could call it Dobby After Dark…" (a title she said I could steal) so if Dobby is the pregnant one, I guess we know what he does after dark! Lol  
 **KleaKuqi:** Mayyybbbee Cissy will too… but yeah, that was the night Delphini was conceived. ;)  
 **Harry Hobbit** : I added Bella's wink in the last chapter because you mentioned it and I was like, hey, I like that. So thanks!  
 **PopularCats** , **Anotherdarkshado** , **Hello** , **Elphaba8385** , and **Guest** : Thanks for your recent reviews! I love reading them!


	16. August 2, 1997

**Chapter Fifteen – August 2** **nd** **, 1997**

On the evening of July 27th, 1997, the Dark Lord and Harry Potter met again.

During the ensuing attack, which would come to be known as The Battle of the Seven Potters, Alastor Moody was killed, Rodolphus Lestrange was gravely injured, George Weasley lost an ear, Lucius Malfoy's wand was inexplicably destroyed, and, as he'd somehow managed to do four times before, Harry Potter managed to survive.

Five days later, on August 1st, the Ministry of Magic fell, as the Dark Lord finally took control. Now in charge of Hogwarts as well, He decided to fill a few recently vacant positions.

Which is why He summoned Severus Snape, who had just returned to Spinner's End from the place where he'd been hiding, to Malfoy Manor shortly after lunch.

The professor knocked at the door. Narcissa opened it.

"Hello, Severus," she said, with a slight touch of awkwardness.

"Narcissa." He regarded her as casually as if she were… well… merely the wife of one of his friends. "The Dark Lord expects me."

"Yes." She opened the door wider, granting him entrance. "He told me you'd know where to find him.

An hour later, Narcissa was curled up in the parlor, reading the dénouement of the mystery novel she'd bought for Bella (who'd finished it while on the run) when Severus poked his head in.

"I am leaving now. Have you had difficulty coming and going, considering the new wards?"

A Dark Mark was required to apparate onto Malfoy property.

"I wouldn't know," she said. "My husband no longer permits me to come and go."

With a furtive glance out into the hall, Severus entered the room, locked the door, and cast a Muffliato charm to ensure they would not be overheard. She set the book down on the couch, unsure of what to say. Fortunately for her, he broke the silence. Unfortunately, it was with a question she was unwilling to answer.

"What happened to your hand?"

Immediately she covered her right with her left, drawing it up to her chest, not wanting to lie. Finally, she said, "It was an accident."

"An accident? Lucius hit you with the head of his walking stick by mistake, did he?"

"I… how do you…? did he say…? he… he didn't mean to."

Severus stood by the door, making no effort to move closer to her, so she remained curled up on the couch.

"He didn't mean to," he repeated, trying to hide the fury bubbling up inside him.

"He's never done it before," she insisted. "He's really very sorry."

Slowly, Severus nodded, his jaw clenched tight, twitching slightly. He wasn't going to say anything. He wasn't going to argue with her. It wasn't his place.

But then, she added, "He said he couldn't help it. I made him angry. It won't happen again."

And suddenly Severus couldn't hold his tongue.

"Know who else said it wouldn't happen again, Narcissa? My father. When I was little, before we moved to Spinner's End, before my parents' situation turned from bad to worse, he _always_ promised it would never happen again. And he always said he was sorry. He would then tell her it was her own fault; he wouldn't have had to hit her if she hadn't made him so angry…"

"This is entirely diff…" Narcissa began, but Severus cut her off.

"The first time, I was four. He hit her and stormed out and she cried and I cried and she swore he'd never done that before. When he returned home she apologized – _she_ apologized – and he promised _on his life_ that it would never happen again."

"Lucius isn't like…"

"If he hit you once, he'll hit you again. That's the lesson my mother learned, but it took her a decade to grasp it."

"You know Lucius! You know he isn't like that."

She was right. He did know Lucius. And Lucius had never been like that. Before.

"Why was he angry?"

"He found four vials of birth control potion in my drawer. I always hid it away in the attic before, but with him gone and you… I suppose I wasn't careful."

"So he knows?"

"No." Narcissa shifted her gaze back down to her injured hand. "Bella said I'd been brewing it for her."

Again Severus nodded, forcing himself to remain stoic, even though what he really wanted to do was take her in his arms… or perhaps go and wring his friend's neck.

A great many Death Eaters were guilty of mistreatment of women, including their own wives, which was something Severus had never been able to abide. Though it was necessary for him to look the other way at times, he never shied away from speaking up, should it happen in his presence, provided the Dark Lord was not around. This was something on which he and Lucius had always agreed.

Lucius was quick to engage in trysts with women looking to work their way up in the Death Eater's ranks (and, if Severus was being completely honest, he hadn't always minded doing so too, figuring if he and the woman were both using each other it was fair) but neither of them had ever willingly engaged in the torture or rape of women, not even those the Dark Lord occasionally "gifted" to them during the First War. As a matter of fact, the only women with whom Severus had ever had sex on the Dark Lord's orders was Bellatrix, and he'd tried to deny too her but she was so damn insistent… and, at the time, he was still a virgin… a sad fact she'd used to her advantage…

Lucius and Severus were in agreement that women were people, not property, and both were outwardly disgusted by the ways Macnair and Goyle ruled over their wives with iron fists.

Thus to learn that his friend (former friend?) had hit his wife – a woman for whom Severus had come to care a great deal, whether he'd admit it to himself or not – bothered him on multiple levels. _Perhaps she's right,_ he thought. _But on the other hand, perhaps Azkaban had changed him… permanently._

"Severus?"

"If he does it again," Severus said softly, hoping she couldn't hear the anger in his voice because he didn't want her to think it was directed at her, "You need to leave him."

"Oh?" She laughed bitterly and untucked her legs from her knees. "And where shall I go?" She rose, walking toward him, and gestured widely. "I can't even apparate out of the wards around my own home. I haven't any money. I have never had a job, I left Hogwarts before taking my N.E.W.T.s, I didn't earn many O.W.L.s, and I am completely unskilled. I've only ever been a housewife and mother and I'm generally rubbish at both of those too. Besides, the Dark Lord controls the Ministry and the Ministry controls St. Mungos. Hogsmeade is small. Diagon Alley is smaller. If he hits me – if he _beats_ me – where the hell do you I suggest I go?"

His dark eyes met hers as he answered, "Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" She laughed again. "Because Minerva McGonagall and I have always gotten on so well?"

"Because I'll be there." He remained without any expression on his pale face, but his voice had softened. "The Dark Lord has appointed me the new Headmaster. If Lucius hurts you, or if you're afraid he's going to, have Draco or Bellatrix side-along apparate you out of the wards, then come straight to Hogwarts."

Her eyes, as they so often did, filled with tears.

"I've slept with him," she confessed. "Three times in the last five days. I'm sorry."

"You needn't apologize to me because you've slept with your husband."

"He wants another baby. I don't. I don't… and I haven't been able to brew any more potion. I'm rarely out of his sight for long enough. I find myself praying… have you ever prayed?"

"Prayed?" Severus was visibly confused by the question. "Like Muggles do in their cathedrals?"

She shrugged, turning away. "I'm not certain I'm doing it right. I just fold my hands, look to the sky, and say, 'To any God or gods up there, please don't let me get pregnant.'" She caught his eye again, this time while looking over her shoulder. "Do you suppose that works?"

"I…I think my father's mother used to pray, but I never learned myself."

"Is it awful that I want him to start cheating on me again? But he's so weak and exhausted and unlike himself at the moment I don't know that he can. He only sleeps with me with the hope it'll result in another baby. He doesn't _want_ me. I can tell."

Turning back, she stepped closer to Severus. He backed away.

"I do not wish to discuss your sex life with your husband."

"I do not wish to _have_ a sex life with my husband," she whispered, taking two small steps even closer to him.

"Your sister wanted a position at Hogwarts," said Snape, desperate to change the subject. "She asked to replace the Muggle Studies professor, but the Dark Lord laughed and put the Carrows into the two available positions. Not sure which is teaching what. One will handle Muggle Studies, with a vastly altered curriculum, I'm sure, and the other is teaching Dark Arts."

"You mean Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I should go."

"No! Uh…" Narcissa grasped his hand, pulling him toward the couch. "Sit with me?" She curled up on one end, tossing her book on the chair opposite her, and released his hand. He did not sit, not straight away. "Severus?"

"What?"

"Was she your friend, like she said?"

"Excuse me?"

"Before… before that Muggle Studies teacher was… was murdered, she said, 'Severus, please, we're friends.' So were you? Friends?"

He settled on the couch, but at the opposite end, not within arm's length.

"You were jealous of her."

She scowled. "Only when I though she was being too friendly with you."

"Not on my birthday. I mean the day she was killed. You were jealous of her. You knew she was about to die, but you were jealous."

Without even realizing she was doing it, Narcissa immediately reached up with her left hand and began to twirl a thick strand of black and blonde hair around her forefinger. "How did you know?"

"You need to learn to close your mind, Narcissa. Especially when you're feeling… emotional. It makes it even easier to see into your mind."

"You were looking into my mind?"

"And stop twirling your hair."

Her left hand snapped down into her lap, held by the bruised right one.

"You were reading my mind?" she prompted again.

"Not at first. At first, I could only read your emotions. I didn't want to, but they were obvious to me. You're lucky both the Dark Lord and your sister were too preoccupied with the matter at hand to notice. The jealousy was strong, as were your worry, your disgust, and perhaps most dangerous of all, your pity. You felt badly for her, just before it happened. Didn't you?"

"You read all that without using Legillimency?"

"I used Legillimency later. I saw Lucius hit you with the walking stick. I knew you'd slept with him."

She wasn't sure whether she should be furious or relieved.

"Could you see… what I was thinking… about you?"

He smirked, then quickly wiped the grin off his face and replied, "No."

"Yes, you could! I don't understand. When Bella uses Legillimency on me, I can feel it. It's unpleasant. I can see what she's seeing. I can control it a little – I can't stop her from getting in, but I can show her different memories, ones that I know will distract her – but with you, I had no idea you were even… even… even _in_ there!"

"Your sister lacks subtly. She understands Occlumency and Legillemency as well as she needs to in order to invade the minds of others, but she believes in using force to get what she wants, and that makes her easier to fool than me or the Dark Lord. I view it as an art, not a method of torture. I employ more… finesse."

"That's really sexy."

"Narcissa!"

"Sorry!"

He rolled his eyes before continuing. "It intrigues me that you're able to stave her off from seeing what she seeks by showing her what you know will interest her. Of course, that won't work if you're fighting back against someone you don't know well, or against someone not so easily distracted, like the Dark Lord, but it shows you have a semblance of control over your own mind, even when it's being invaded by someone else. Have you ever been under the Imperius Curse?"

"Yes," she admitted, sliding closer to him on the couch. He stiffened but did not move away. "Last year, when the Dark Lord assigned Draco his task. I became upset. Bella used the Imperius to ensure I responded appropriately to the Dark Lord. I was able to fight her off once – I refused to say when she tried to make me say – but she pushed again and I couldn't resist, though I was inwardly fuming about it."

"That's good," he murmured. "Very good."

"It is?"

"You have potential… and I think you need to expand upon the skills you inherently possess, for your own good, and mine, and Draco's. The Dark Lord doesn't rifle around in your mind because – and you'll excuse me for saying so – He doesn't think there's anything of value going on in your head. However, it would take only a moment, only a notion, for this to change, for example, when you're feeling a strong surge of emotion, especially those He cannot truly comprehend, like love or empathy, and then you'd be left utterly defenseless."

She slipped her hand in his. Gently, he touched the edge of her bruise with his thumb.

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"I think you need to learn Occlumency."

"But who could teach me? You'll be at Hogwarts and I can't very well risk asking my sister or my son."

Severus paused, took a deep breath, let it out, then shook his head as if trying to extract a negative thought. Gingerly, he held her bruised hand between both of his.

"You're right, of course," he said. "But I advise you to be cautious. When in the presence of the Dark Lord, don't let your emotions get the better of you. Do not think about me, or about Draco, or about anything that might prompt him to probe further. It is not safe. Clear your mind when at all possible. Think about the mundane – a brick wall, a blue sky – if you must."

"I'll be careful."

"Speaking of being careful…" Gently he brought her bruised hand up to his lips and pressed his lips to it. She shivered, but in a good way, not from her never-ending eternal chill. "We cannot continue… as we were."

"I know," she whispered, not willing to let go of his hand. Though she cared for him, the guilt she'd felt since Lucius' return was ripping away at her like a Flesh Eating Slug. Every time her husband kissed her, or touched her, or told her he loved her, that guilt would rear up again, threatening to make her sick, threatening to make her break down and confess... confess that she'd been with Severus. Confess that he'd called her _his_. Confess that she'd liked it. She almost… loved it. But she couldn't. She couldn't love being his, because she wasn't his. She belonged to Lucius… _No,_ she mentally scolded herself. She belonged _with_ Lucius. Not to. _With_.

He was making the decision out of guilt, too. Because that last night they'd been together, when he'd uttered the words "My Narcissa," and assured her, in that moment, it was the way he felt, he'd momentarily forgotten about _her_. Lily. His childhood best friend, the only woman he'd ever loved, the one for whom he did all of this two-timing, spying against the Dark Lord, helping the Order… the Order that now saw him as the enemy. _Ah, but they always did, didn't they?_ A little voice inside his mind asked. To everyone except Dumbledore, he'd always been the enemy. So why did he do it? For her. For her son, to keep him safe. Because he loved her. He loved Lily.

"We're still friends, though?" she asked hopefully, tilting her chin down and looking up at him, the way she had two Easters before, when she informed him she'd never even been kissed by another man. He had to look away. That look was too much for him.

"Of course," he said, releasing her hand. "Friends."

"Thank you."

He cleared his throat and was standing up to go, when she asked, "How is Andromeda?"

"Excuse me?"

"Bella told me the Dark Lord sent you and two of His other followers to her house this morning, to torture her and that Muggle-born husband of hers for information, and in retaliation for helping the Order. Bella said it was Andromeda's house where they took Potter the other night."

"Yes," said Severus, settling back down on the couch. "He was angry about what happened to Rodolphus, furious we missed Potter again, and livid that your sister was among those who worked with the Order, even though I assured Him she is not a member herself. He punished Bellatrix on Andromeda's behalf."

Narcissa's gray eyes widened. "She didn't tell me that."

"I believe she's embarrassed about it. She wanted to off your niece during the battle but was unsuccessful."

Narcissa buried her face in her hands. "I have a fucked up family, Severus."

"No more so than any of the rest of us, I suppose," he said, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and moving her hands back to her lap. "I used the Cruciatus Curse on Andromeda."

"Was she hurt?"

He paused, unsure of how much would be safe to reveal. Finally, he answered, "Not as badly as she could have been. She's shaken, that's all."

"Bella says in order to do it properly, you have to really mean it. To want to cause pain." She tilted her chin down, looking up at him, doe-eyed. "Did you want to cause my sister pain?"

"No," he murmured, longing to touch her even though he knew he shouldn't. "I didn't."

"I miss her. I miss you."

He nodded, stood, and took two steps to stand in front of her on the far side of the couch. He leaned down, taking her face in his hands, and placed a quick, gentle kiss on her lips.

"If he hurts you, I'll be at Hogwarts. But _this_ is over."

"He won't hurt me," she said, with more conviction than she felt. "Perhaps you'll call upon us at Christmas? I don't want you to spend it alone."

"Perhaps I will."

He strode toward the door. He was nearly there when she jumped up and rushed after him.

"Severus?"

He turned. "Yes?"

She threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly. No tongue, no wandering hands, no intention of transitioning it into more. Just a kiss. It lasted but a second. When they parted, he smiled. Then he turned, opened the door, and was gone.

She spent the next half hour finishing the book, then she went to her bedroom to freshen up before dinner, which was being prepared by the house elves.

That night, in bed, she told Lucius she was sorry.

"For what, dear?"

"For everything. For not being a better wife. It was difficult when you were gone and now that you're back, I don't know how we're going to get back to normal, especially not with… not with everything else going on."

"I'm sorry too, my dear." Lucius reached across the bed to take her by the arms and repositioned her so she was on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she held herself up by placing her hands on either side of his shoulders. "I neglected you before my unfortunate incarceration, which no doubt adds to our present issues."

"I'll try to do better," she promised. "I'll be better."

"As will I." One of his hands roamed up her back, to the back of her neck, and pulled her down into a kiss.

That night, when they were together, she thought of Severus only once… or maybe twice… but she did as well as she could to keep him out of her mind.

To keep her mind clear.

Who knows? At some point, her life may depend on it.

* * *

 **A/N:** To answers Qs...  
 **1.** Yes, I do ship Bellatrix/Voldemort. I have quite a bit of them in my Bellatrix trilogy (starting with Mistress of the Dark Lord) but the first one is mostly about her talking to her sister Andromeda with flashbacks featuring the Dark Lord, while the second is a dark/violent fic in which He punishes her for something. The third (Dying for the Dark Lord) has the most romantical stuff in it. I try to show that He cares for her more than just as a servant/follower, but at the same time that He cannot truly love because of the way He was conceived/raised, thus keeping it Canon (in the books, He DOES get upset when she's killed, which I always thought meant He felt more for her than He does for, say Snape, who He believed to be equally loyal, or Wormtail or Lucius). After this fic is over, my next one is about all three sisters with more flashbacks to childhood and their teen years so I plan to have more Bellatrix/Voldemort in that, too, but probably with a T rating so not quite as... lemony.  
 **2.** I do see your recent reviews in my email, but none of my reviews are showing up on here for the last two chapters. This happened once before with ffnet recently so I think it's a glitch and will be fixed soon.  
 **AL**


	17. Early September, 1997

**Chapter Seventeen – Early September, 1997**

"Are you drinking again?" asked Lucius, making his way over to Narcissa, who was curled up on the couch in the parlor, book in one hand, glass of red wine in the other.

"Why do you say 'again' as if it's a problem?" she asked testily, glaring in his direction. She was in no mood.

"No reason." He sat in a chair opposite her. She ignored him, sipping the last of her wine before placing the empty glass on the end table, then returning to Out of My Mind: A Beginner's Guide to Occlumency, which she'd found on one of the dustier shelves in the Manor library.

When he was certain she wasn't paying attention, he held up his temporary wand, borrowed from Wormtail, and muttered a few simple words. Narcissa glanced up and happened to catch the familiar movement of his hand, though she couldn't make out what he'd said. She raised one eyebrow.

"Did you just perform a pregnancy test incantation on me?"

His face took on a stony glare. "It's as if you're not even trying."

"Trying?" Narcissa slammed down the book and drew her own wand from her sleeve. "I'm available to you all the time, without question, even when I don't feel like it! Is it my fault if I can't conceive? Is it my fault if I miscarry more often than not when I do? Is it my fault I'm lousy at getting pregnant and even lousier at staying pregnant? Is it my fault I had a difficult pregnancy and was a terrible disaster of a mother when our son was a baby? Is it my fault I don't want another child?" Her voice rose, shaking on the border of hysteria, as she repeated it. "I don't want another child! I don't want another fucking child!"

Though she'd been working on controlling her emotions as Severus advised, Narcissa burst into tears. Lucius, for his part, look genuinely shocked.

"Narcissa?" he said with a softness he rarely showed. He moved to sit beside her on the couch, shoving the wand back in his robes. He wrapped his arms around his wife, whose shoulders were shaking as she sobbed, but still his face reflected his confusion.

"You don't want another baby?" He handed her a green, monogrammed silk handkerchief from the pocket inside his robes. She used it to wipe her eyes, though she was still crying.

"I'm sorry, Lucius. I'm sorry. I vowed to be a better wife. I'm trying to be a better wife. But… but… but… every time I think about the possibility of getting pregnant again, I want to be sick. How could you even _want_ me to try to get pregnant again? When Draco was… when he was a baby… I could barely function… I was a mess… I couldn't even feed him, Lucius. My own son. I couldn't care for him."

"You're much older now," Lucius said, as if that would help. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"Yes, dear, I'm sure childbearing is much easier on the body of a 43-year-old than it was on that of a 25-year-old." She expected Lucius to be angry, but when she looked in his eyes, she was surprised to see hurt there instead.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, gently pushing her hair away from her face. "I've wanted another child for over fifteen years. Have you felt this way all this time?"

She was finally getting over feeling guilty about Severus and here was guilt again, rearing its ugly head. She stroked his stubbly cheek, wishing she knew how to take away his pain, knowing the truth was going to hurt him worse, but she couldn't bring herself to lie.

"I'm sorry, darling. But yes, I have. All this time. I love you, I truly do, and you know I love Draco with all of my heart, but… we're at war! The Dark Lord is living right here in our home! People have been tortured here, imprisoned, even killed. Do you really think we should bring a baby into that? Especially considering the way I was last time. What if I… what if I were like that again? What if I'm _worse_? What if, the next time, you're not there? What if I'm standing there with a pillow and you're off fighting the Order with the Dark Lord and you come back and our baby is…" She let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, hoping he would reassure her even though he couldn't change her mind.

"Do you know when I fell in love with you, Narcissa?"

"What?"

He pulled her to him, so that she was resting her back against his chest, with his arms wrapped around her. "It was your fifteenth birthday, a Saturday. A Hogsmeade weekend. I was of age, so I'd pre-secured a room at the Hog's Head, but I knew I'd have to smuggle you in. Thanks to Dumbledore's staff patrolling the corridors after hours, we hadn't really been together – quick half-dressed shags and handjobs in broom closets don't count – since that day I apparated over to your house over Christmas break, when your mother and sisters were out."

"Mother never would've approved of…" Her cheeks went pink. "You know."

"Us having sex in her house when she wasn't home? No, I suspect most mothers wouldn't approve."

She turned her head to look up at him as he ran his fingers through her hair. "You don't suppose… Draco… and that awful girl…?"

"No." Lucius laughed. "He's smarter than that. We've had 'the talk.' He knows."

"You didn't tell him… That we…?" She sat up, half-turning around, an alarmed expression on her face.

"What? No!" Lucius laughed again. "I told him we waited until marriage."

"Thank you," she breathed, relieved. She settled back against him. He kissed her temple. "So, you fell in love with me the day I turned fifteen? You do realize that's two years _after_ we started dating, right? And a full six months _after_ I... you know... gave myself to you."

"I remember. I was a seventh year. You were in fourth. Your hair was long, all the way down past your waist, white blonde, and your eyes were glittery silver."

"They're still glittery silver."

"You weren't wearing your uniform under your robes, remember? You were wearing that dress…"

"I remember."

 _She'd been scared to death when she entered the pub. She was wearing a hooded black cloak that obscured her face and went all the way to her toes. Since she was only 5'3, she'd worn heels in an attempt to avoid looking like a child. Quite unfairly, she hadn't hit her growth spurt yet, putting her behind both of her older sisters, who were both at least 5'6 by age 14 and still growing._

 _When she entered the Hog's Head, the first thing she spotted was the cantankerous old barkeep, wiping out dirty glasses with an even dirtier rag. Nothing unusual._

 _There were maybe ten other people in the pub, twelve at most. Her gray eyes darted back and forth, seeking Lucius, wondering whether he'd be in disguise too. Finally her sights settled on him, back by the foot of the stairs. His long blond hair was pulled back and he hadn't shaved, giving him a slightly older, and slightly more rugged, appearance. Relieved, she rushed over to him. He kissed her on each cheek, eyes darting toward the barkeep, who didn't seem to be paying them any mind._

 _"_ _It's the second room on the left," he murmured in her ear before pulling away. "Let's go."_

 _"_ _Alright," she whispered._

 _Lucius started up the stairs. Narcissa made to follow._

 _"_ _Hey, young man!"_

 _It was the bartender._

 _"_ _Yes, sir?"_

 _"_ _Where you think you're taking that little girl?"_

 _"_ _Little girl?" Lucius laughed as though that was absurd. "No, sir! She's my wife. She's exhausted from traveling. She'd like to take a nap in our room so she'll be refreshed for our dinner with my boss tonight."_

 _The bartender glared at them for several seconds before letting out a guffaw._

 _"_ _She's your wife? That little girl?"_

 _Narcissa's face burned red. It wasn't fair. Though she and her sisters were similarly built, neither of them were mistaken for children at age fourteen. 'No,_ fifteen _,' she reminded herself. It was her birthday. She was fifteen. Fifteen and still relatively flat-chested and short, like puberty had skipped her over. The irony being, of course, that'd she'd gotten her first boyfriend and subsequently became sexually active at a much younger age than either of the older Black sisters. Actually, Narcissa was relatively certain Andromeda, who was almost seventeen, was still a virgin, since she'd recently admitted that she wanted to save herself until marriage, and for all Cissy knew, nineteen-year-old Bellatrix might have been too. She'd certainly never had a boyfriend. She spent most of her time at Hogwarts either with her nose buried in a book or bullying younger students for fun. Any boy who dared hit on her got hexed._

 _"_ _You expect me to buy that load of donkey droppings?" asked the barkeep, blue eyes twinkling. "She's your wife? What is she, twelve? Thirteen?"_

 _"_ _I'm fifteen today!" Narcissa answered haughtily. She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oops."_

 _"_ _Thought so." The bartender chuckled again, shaking his head. "Nice try, though. You…" He pointed to Narcissa with the glass in his hand, "Ought to be spending your birthday at Honeydukes or Zonkos, maybe with a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. And you!" He now pointed the glass at Lucius, "Ought to find a gal your own age. What're you, twenty? Can't imagine what her father would say if he heard about this, but whatever it is, I imagine he'd say it_ after _hexing you into oblivion, you pervy mongrel."_

 _"_ _Speaking of fathers, do you know who mine is?" asked Lucius, glaring back at the bartender, who was still chortling. "Abraxas Malfoy. And he'd never stand for anyone addressing his son in such a way!"_

 _"_ _Yeah? Does he know about your child bride? If so, and it's alright by him, next time take her home to your father's house. No hanky-panky with children goes on in my inn."_

 _Poor Narcissa had not only been humiliated, she was terrified that word would somehow get back to her mother. Her only saving grace was the fact that Stepfather had been murdered back when she was a first year, because she could only imagine what he would say. Or worse –_ do _._

 _"_ _I need to go, Lucius," she whispered, rushing out without awaiting a response. She heard him as he swore at the barkeep, then called her name, but she didn't stop._

 _An hour and a half later, he finally found her, hiding in a small clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Her robe was spread out over the grass and she was lying face down on it, sobbing into her arms._

 _"_ _Narcissa! I've been searching everywhere!" He took out his wand, which he kept in his pocket, as his father had not yet bequeathed him the snake's head walking stick, and placed several protective wards around them in a bubble, free from the prying eyes and nosy ears of any potential passers-by._

 _"_ _He's right, Lucius. I'm a child. I'm barely fifteen. I'm not mature. I'm not beautiful. I'm not enough for you. You don't want me. You're a man. You need a woman, not a little girl."_

 _"_ _I don't want a woman!" he insisted. "I want you!"_

 _She looked up, startled. Immediately he recognized his poor word choice and attempted to amend it._

 _"_ _I mean,_ you're _the woman I want. It doesn't matter that you're fifteen. When you were thirteen, and I was sixteen, I found you beautiful. Now you're fifteen and I'm eighteen and I still find you beautiful. And when you're eighteen and I'm twenty-one, I'll find you beautiful then, too. And when you're forty, and I'm forty-three, also beautiful. And when you're seventy-two and I'm seventy-five, I'll probably be half-blind, like my grandmother was, so there's a chance I'll find you beautiful even then!"_

 _"_ _You're an idiot," she said, but she was smiling. She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her dress, rolling onto her side to see him better. He looked her over approvingly._

 _"_ _I like your dress," he said, his gaze hovering at her chest. The chest she felt was practically nonexistent, though she'd padded her bra a little thanks to a spell Andromeda taught her. The dress was long and form-fitting and black, with cutouts at the shoulders, a low neckline, and a corset-style waist. It wasn't hers; she'd borrowed it from Bellatrix without permission over the Christmas holiday, and when putting it on in her dormitory that afternoon she rather felt like a child playing dress up in her mother's closet, but judging by the way Lucius was looking at her – hungrily – she didn't think he would agree with her self-assessment._

"You fell in love with me because I was wearing my sister's dress?" asked Narcissa, interrupting his account of that afternoon. Lucius shook his head.

"That's not the part when I fell in love with you, Narcissa. That's the part when I wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you."

She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. "How romantic."

"Listen!"

"I'm listening!"

 _He'd joined her on her robe, lying down beside her on it as if it were a blanket, and wrapped one arm around her waist. He kissed her. Over and over he'd kissed her, but he was careful about not touching until she did so first, because he knew it scared her to take things too fast, even now, even though Stepfather had been dead for over three years._

 _When she finally seemed comfortable, and his own robe and shirt were off, leaving him in his Hogwarts uniform pants and tie, she finally guided his hand up from her waist, over the bodice of the borrowed dress. He took this as an invitation to roll over on top of her, fondling her breast in his hand, sucking at her neck._

"Are we going to have to relive that time we had sex in the Forbidden Forest?" she interrupted, placing her right hand over his, which happened to be caressing her chest as he retold the story.

"I suppose I can skip ahead," he said, moving his hand down. "But that's my favorite part."

"Is that the part when you fell in love with me?"

"No, I'm getting there."

"Well get there quicker, darling. My whole lower half is falling asleep from being in this position for too long. I'm not fifteen anymore."

"No kidding," he said. She turned and shot him a look. He apologized, clearly only humoring her.

"You don't sound sorry."

"I'm not. It's no secret you aren't fifteen anymore."

She stared straight ahead, toward the liquor cabinet, the back of her head against his shoulder, a pout on her lips. "Sod off."

He kissed her temple again. "You want to hear this or not?"

"Fine. But it had better be good. I'm on pins and needles. Literally. I feel like I'm sitting on pins and needles."

"That would be figuratively, Narcissa. Not literally."

She hated it when he'd do that. Correct her. Always had. And Bella did it too. Sometimes Narcissa thought if her sister and her husband didn't hate each other so much, they'd actually be a suitable match. In between their Death Eater duties for the Dark Lord, they could go to fancy parties surrounded by important people and entertain themselves the entire evening by editing everyone else's grammar right out loud.

 _After they'd done 'it' in the clearing of the Forbidden Forest (Narcissa always thought of sex as 'it' back then. Though she didn't feel she was too young to have sex, she didn't feel at all comfortable saying the word) they sprawled out on their backs to stare up at the darkening sky above their heads. It had been a sunnier day than any other they'd had recently, but now clouds were rolling in. Lucius pointed up to the one directly overhead._

 _"_ _That one looks like a Pygmy Puff," he said._

 _"_ _It looks like rain."_

 _"_ _No, it's not going to rain today."_

 _But it did. There was a rumble, then a crack, as the skies went from pewter gray to nearly black, and down came the rain in sheets._

 _The wards Lucius had placed around the clearing couldn't protect them from that._

 _So they ran. They ran, holding hands, back to the castle, their shoes slipping in the muddy grass, their robes thrown up over their heads, not that the fabric provided any significant protection against the cold water. By the time they reached the main entrance hall, they looked like a pair of drowned cats. Narcissa's blonde hair curled up into limp ringlets, whereas Lucius', which was no longer pulled back, became stringy and stuck to his neck. His white uniform shirt was see-through and the velvety material of the dress she'd borrowed (okay, stolen) from Bella had absorbed so much water Narcissa felt like she'd gained a stone._

 _Still holding hands, and now each laughing at the other's appearance, they hurried along to their common room. When they arrived, they found it empty. Their fellow Slytherins (Third year and above) were likely waiting out the storm at the Three Broomsticks or in any one of a dozen Hogsmeade shops, but they didn't know where the First and Second years were hiding._

 _"_ _I must look awful!" exclaimed Narcissa, trying to hide her upset, in desperate need of a mirror. Back then, she spent a lot of time in front of the mirror. "Don't look at me, Lucius!"_

 _"_ _I'm looking at you," he said. She tried to rush away to her dorm, but he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. "I'm looking at you, and I like what I see."_

 _"_ _What? No!" She brushed her sopping ringlets away from her face. "Stop it!"_

 _"_ _I think you're as beautiful now as you'll be when I'm seventy-five and half-blind."_

 _She shoved his shoulder, hard, but he did not release her wrist. "You're ridiculous."_

 _"_ _I may be ridiculous, but you're beautiful." He placed his hand on her cheek, leaned in, and kissed her softly on the lips. "You're even more beautiful at fifteen than you were at fourteen."_

 _"_ _I was fourteen yesterday."_

 _"_ _And you'll be even more beautiful tomorrow."_

 _"_ _Unhand me! I need to go change! I feel awful. I_ look _awful! I'm a soggy mess!"_

 _He kissed her again. "I like soggy messes. I like the way you look."_

 _She halfheartedly pushed him away again, but now she was giggling as she did so._

 _"_ _Alright," she said. "You can look at me."_

 _"That's all I ask."_

"That was it," said Lucius. He placed yet another kiss on Narcissa's temple.

"That was it? That's when you fell in love with me? When I was soaking wet and whining in an ill-fitting dress but I said you could look at me anyway?"

"Yes."

"You're just as ridiculous now as you were then," she said, but she repositioned herself to kiss him, as a dangerous thought fluttered through her mind – maybe it wouldn't be _so bad_ to try and have another baby. She parted her lips, granting his tongue entrance...

When a loud knock at the front door interrupted them.

"I'd better get that," said Lucius, releasing her and standing up. "The Dark Lord doesn't want the house elves in charge of seeing who enters and exits around here."

"I'll follow you," she said. With Draco back at school for Seventh year and things with Severus absolutely over, she didn't have anything better to do, except continue to read the Occlumency book, of course.

Bellatrix was already in the hall, her hand reaching toward the door handle.

"The Dark Lord has requested a meeting with a new recruit," she explained. From the thoroughly annoyed expression on her face Narcissa knew immediately that this new recruit must be a woman.

"Let her in then," said Lucius. Obviously he'd realized it too.

Standing there on the front step was indeed a woman, a young, attractive woman with long, white-blonde hair and gray eyes. She was not alone.

Her arm was linked through that of none other than Severus Snape.

"Juliet Rosier!" exclaimed Narcissa, clearly thrown. Severus shot her a sharp look and, much like she had under Bella's Imperius Curse, she could hear his voice in her head.

"Clear your mind."

Narcissa nodded, collecting herself, as Lucius welcomed them into Malfoy Manor.

"Hello again, Narcissa," said Juliet, smiling in a way Narcissa could only describe as catty, though she wasn't even sure a smile _could_ be catty. She looked to Lucius, but was bothered to see that he was checking over her cousin as if she were an expensive dark artifact he knew he shouldn't have in his possession but couldn't help buying. She bit her tongue to keep from cursing.

"Damn," breathed Bellatrix. She was checking out their cousin too, but in an entirely different way – as if she were a work horse Bella was considering either adding to her stable or turning into glue. "You greatly resemble Narcissa when she was young. I expected you to look more like Zillah."

"Zillah and I share only our father, remember? She looks like her mother."

"Zillah?" asked Narcissa. Then it came to her. Zillah Rosier, who had been in Bella's year at Hogwarts, was Evan and Juliet's older half-sister. "How _is_ Zillah?"

Lucius closed the door and ushered them down the hall to the dining room, taking care to walk behind Juliet so he could admire her from another angle.

"She moved to America fifteen years ago, married a pureblood wizard from an old Boston family, had a couple of children, and teaches History and Persecution of European Magic at the Salem Witches' Institute. I haven't seen her in nearly a decade. She was already an adult when I was born and our mothers never cared for each other, on account of Father divorcing her Mum to marry mine, but she writes every Christmas and I respond around New Years."

"That's nice," said Bella dismissively. She hadn't much cared for Zillah at Hogwarts, though they'd gotten on alright. It was just that teen Bellatrix had had patience for so few people… perhaps even fewer now, in adulthood. Frankly, she'd always felt like she was better than the other girls in her year, including Winifred, her one friend, who'd abandoned her when she went to Azkaban, going on record to the Daily Prophet pretending they'd hardly known each other in school. Narcissa hadn't had many friends because she didn't know how to make them. Bellatrix simply had no use for them. And Andromeda, a Slytherin with a distaste for blood purity, couldn't fit in with them.

There was a reason the Black sisters had been their own little trio for so many years, set apart from their peers. Until members of the opposite sex entered their lives and fucked it all up.

"Unfortunately, you cannot come to this meeting, Narcissa," said Bellatrix when they reached the dining room. "It is only for those who bear the Dark Mark." Her eyes darted toward Juliet, who was running her fingertips up and down Severus' arm, but smiling at Lucius in a flirtatious way while telling him about her job at the shop in Hogsmeade. "And those who may bear the Dark Mark in the near future."

"Fine," said Narcissa. "I didn't want to know what's going on anyway."

"Oh, don't be bitter, love," said Bellatrix. She simultaneously tugged the back of Narcissa's hair and brought her face close to Cissy's as if kissing her sister on the cheek, but in actuality she added in a whisper, "You know you could take a more active role in working for the Dark Lord if you wanted to, but you also know as well as I do that you don't want to."

"It's not that that bothers me," Narcissa murmured back, glancing again at Juliet and Lucius. The girl giggled over something he'd said, nudged him with her hip, then sauntered into the dining room as if she'd been there a thousand times before.

"I'll keep an eye on the little slag," said Bella, jerking her head toward Juliet, who stood with Severus. "Don't worry, Cissy. That's what big sisters are for."

"Very well," said Narcissa, catching Snape's eye as he settled into a chair at the far end of the table. Juliet sat beside him. She raised her voice so her husband and the others could hear her. "Since I'm not welcome in my own dining room, I'm going to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Not that anyone cares."

She passed the Dark Lord in the hall. He acted as though he hadn't seen her.

Once Severus, Juliet, Lucius, Bellatrix, and the Dark Lord were all seated and alone, in a calm, quiet voice, the Dark Lord spoke.

"As you know, the Ministry, under my control, has recently formed the Muggle-born Registration Committee. All Muggle-borns are required to register as such. They will then be investigated, their wands confiscated, and those who are determined to have stolen their magic will be sentenced to life in Azkaban, while those who are found _rightfully_ in possession of magic…" (Bellatrix snickered at this) "Will be permitted to return to their homes and regular lives. The trouble is, some of our Muggle-born are refusing to register, on principal they claim. Thus we may need to… persuade them. I am recruiting new talent for the job, starting with this young lady here, who will work with the Ministry under Delores Umbridge – a Selwyn by blood – by visiting the homes of these… these thieves of magic who think they are above our laws. I will be using it as a first test for our newcomers, to gauge their loyalty and their abilities. I am also interested in recruiting more young people for this job. I believe you have friends who would like to move up in the world, Miss Rosier?"

"Yes, my Lord." The young woman smiled, first at the Dark Lord, who nodded, then at Lucius, who returned the smile. "Two in particular. They work for the Post Office in Hogsmeade now, but would much rather be put to better use elsewhere. Professor Snape can vouch for their magical abilities, I believe. He taught us all Potions at Hogwarts."

"Yes, excellent. Severus tells me you were a Ravenclaw?"

"That's right. First Ravenclaw in the Rosier family. My parents, brother, and half-sister were Slytherins, which the Hat considered for me too, but ultimately it said wit and wisdom were my strengths. I did very well on my N.E.W.T.s, especially Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I'm an Animagus. A small Cairn terrier. Unregistered."

"Could be very useful," He said, a slight smile on his almost nonexistent lips. He then asked her to stand and put her through a series of tests, to see whether she could produce a Patronus (she could, but not a corporeal one), whether she could Transfigure a chair into a sword (she could, that was easy), whether she could perform a simple stunning spell (she could, and did, but the look Bellatrix gave her once Ennervated made her stomach knot up), whether she could withstand fifteen seconds of the Cruciatus Curse (it hurt more than she tried to let on; she suspected Bella, annoyed about being stunned, didn't hold back) and whether she could place Severus Snape under the Imperius Curse (technically, she couldn't – her attempt was weak and he could have easily thrown her off, but as he wanted the Dark Lord to recruit her in hopes it would get her to leave him alone, he played along and no one was the wiser). He then asked to see her in her Animagus form. She transformed without issue, hopped up on a chair, wagged her tail, and barked. Lucius, laughing, scratched her behind the ears, while Bellatrix envisioned herself fashioning a muzzle…

"Impressive," said the Dark Lord, nodding appraisingly when she'd changed back. "Not perfect. You need practice in a few areas. We can assign someone to help you there. But not Severus. No. Severus is too busy with Hogwarts, with melding young minds, ensuring they grow up to support our cause, but perhaps one of my other Followers…"

"I'll volunteer, my Lord," said Lucius quickly. Perhaps too quickly. Bella glared at him, hating him, knowing his true intention was to screw around on her sister with this young girl. Their cousin. But, despite her promise to Narcissa to keep an eye, she wasn't willing to take the girl under her own wing, so she said nothing.

"Excellent." The Dark Lord then explained in detail Juliet's first assignment and assured her, if all should go well with her work for the Ministry, she could expect to receive the Dark Mark in a few months time, joining the ranks of the Death Eaters just as her older brother had.

Once they'd been dismissed, Lucius asked Juliet into the parlor for a drink, under the guise of discussing with her any upcoming training she'd need before visiting her first Muggle-born in a week. The Dark Lord left Malfoy Manor without saying where He was going. Bellatrix went off in search of her husband, who was still recovering from the battle with Harry Potter back in July. And Severus headed to the kitchen to find Narcissa.

She was curled up in a chair, knees bent, resting her chin on them, her tea with milk cooling in front of her.

"Do you still miss Andromeda?" he asked without saying hello. She continued hugging her knees, staring at her tea, pretending to ignore him.

"You're going to freeze me out?"

She glanced his way but did not speak.

"This is rather immature of you, Narcissa."

She averted her eyes back to the mug in front of her.

"I can wait," he said. "I am a patient man."

"My cousin, Severus?" she whispered finally, once she'd accepted that he wouldn't leave until she spoke to him.

"It's not what you think," said Severus. He closed the kitchen door and sat across from her at the table, summoning a second teacup and the kettle from the stove.

"It's not?" asked Narcissa, who couldn't help recalling when she'd uttered those exact same words to Lucius, right there in the kitchen, the night he found the birth control potion. And, in that case, it had been exactly what he thought.

"She approached me because she didn't think she'd get anywhere with you. She wants to work for the Dark Lord."

"So you _haven't_ slept with her?"

It was his turn to avert his gaze and not respond.

"Very well," she said, pink spots appearing on her cheeks. "It was nice seeing you again. I'm certain you can show yourself out."

"I didn't enjoy it."

"That makes it okay, then."

"You've been with Lucius, haven't you?"

She sighed. "That's different. We're married."

"So I'm expected to be celibate for… how long? The rest of my life? While you try, on a daily basis, to give your husband another baby?

""I don't enjoy that," she said.

He laughed. ""That makes it okay, then."

"Don't throw my words back in my face!" She pointed her wand at him, but he didn't even flinch. With a sigh, she set it back down on the table and grasped her mug in both hands.

"For what it's worth, Narcissa…" He paused to sip the tea. "I didn't enjoy it because you've ruined sex for me."

It was her turn to laugh, but he could hear the hurt in her voice, though she tried to veil it with sarcasm. "How so? Let me guess - I'm so damn good in bed no other woman can ever compare?"

"Yeah, that's the issue," he replied, just as sarcastically, but he couldn't help adding, "It's just that it's never been like it was with you with anyone else, and likely won't be again."

He wouldn't say it, but the truth was he mentally equated what he had with her – in particular, the chemistry sparked by their every kiss, which always seemed to lead to more – to the sensation he got when he first held the wand that inevitably chose him. Other wands would work, other wands would do the job, but when he touched that wand, when he held it, waved it, and tried a simple spell, and it worked, and it felt like… like _magic_ … he knew something in him had changed. This was not to say that he was in love with Narcissa, of course not. He was in love with Lily and always would be. But he'd never had a spark like that with any other woman he'd gone to bed with, and while he was able to become aroused by and finish with Juliet, he couldn't help feeling unfulfilled.

Frankly, the number one reason he couldn't enjoy fucking Juliet Rosier, despite how young and attractive and enthusiastic she was, was simply because he couldn't stop thinking about Narcissa.

"It's not the same for me anymore, either," she said quietly, running her finger along the edge of her mug, not making eye contact. "And, _for what it's worth_ …" She quoted him purposely, "I told Lucius this morning I'm absolutely disinterested in having any more children, ever, so I doubt he'll continue to… to want me on a regular basis. Especially now that you've brought that girl into our home. Thanks for that."

"She has a strong desire to serve the Dark Lord," said Severus. He added a little milk to his tea. "She said she's sent you four Owls on the subject since you met in January but you haven't responded, so she came to me. What else could I do?"

Narcissa shrugged, pouting. She was in a bad mood but she wasn't sure why. No, that wasn't accurate. She knew why – because of that girl. But she didn't know which bothered her more. Knowing the girl had already slept with Severus, or knowing she was probably going to end up sleeping with Lucius.

"How did you even have time for her?" asked Narcissa. "I thought you were so busy with the school you couldn't even teach me Occlumency or visit or even write a letter once in awhile?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're angry with me."

"No. Yes. I don't know. Maybe."

"You're married, Narcissa. You love your husband, remember? You wanted to be a more faithful and loyal and loving wife, didn't you? We discussed this."

"We did," she admitted. "And I do."

"You once promised me everything," said Severus, his voice low, careful not to be overheard. "But the truth is, we cannot have _everything._ We each need to choose what is more important to us, and try to have that. Everything is too much. Too much is dangerous."

She didn't answer him. She sipped her tea, stared down at the table, and tried to clear her mind, just in case he should happen to want to take a peek inside it.

"What I am about to tell you must not get back to your husband, Bellatrix, any Death Eaters, the Order, the Ministry, or - especially - the Dark Lord," said Severus in an even more serious tone. Narcissa's head snapped up. Still, she said nothing. Knowing he had her full attention, he continued.

"Andromeda and Ted Tonks will soon be visited by two members of the Ministry from the Muggle-born Registration Committee. Your cousin Juliet will accompany them. They intend to arrest your brother-in-law for refusing to register. He will go to Azkaban, unless they decide to kill him instead. Juliet is tasked with trying to convert your niece, Nymphadora. Between you and me, the task is a futile one. Nymphadora will not turn on the Order, nor will she sit idly by and let them take her father. If she does not wish to rethink her loyalties, the instruction is that she shall be tortured. Juliet does not intend to kill her – a Metamorph is too valuable – but your niece will not be spared any pain, and the Ministry representatives remain present to ensure your cousin has no difficulty in completing her assignment. Your sister, should she try to intervene, will almost certainly be tortured, perhaps even arrested or killed. The Dark Lord wishes to make an example of her, a pureblood who defied her family to marry a Muggle-born and went on to birth a half-blood who is more rare and valuable than the Dark Lord feels she ought to be. I wouldn't be surprised if they end up kidnapping your niece with the intention of breeding her, should she and the werewolf not end up conceiving first."

"Why are you telling me this?" whispered Narcissa, scared for the sister she hadn't seen nor heard from in nearly two decades.

"It will happen a week from today." Severus removed a small slip of folded parchment from his pocket and slid it across the table to Narcissa. "This is the address. There are protective wards placed around the house, but there is flaw - anyone related to Andromeda or Ted Tonks by blood is able to bypass them. Whether or not you decide to look at the parchment, burn it and discard the ashes as soon as you can."

He stood, downed the rest of his cold tea in one gulp, and stowed his wand safely back inside his robes.

"Thank you," she whispered, holding onto the piece of parchment as if she'd been poisoned and it was a bezoar. "Severus?"

Ha paused by the door. "Yes?"

"Do you think she's prettier than I am?"

He smirked. "Juliet? You think so, don't you?"

"But do _you?"_ She sounded so earnest, and at the same time, so defeated. It chipped away at his snarky facade as the smirk on his face died, to be replaced by a genuine, albeit sad, smile.

"She's nothing compared to you," he said. "Farewell, Narcissa."

He was gone before she could say goodbye.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope the length of this chapter makes up for the delay in posting it! Like I wrote before, it'll be every-other-day for this week so I can finish final edits for my book. Thanks to those who have left reviews! If you like Wanting Narcissa thus far, please drop me a quick response to let me know. It makes me smile! Also let me know if you have any questions or suggestions. Thanks! **AL**


	18. Six Days Later, September, 1997

**Chapter Eighteen – Six Days Later, September, 1997**

One day shy of one week later, Narcissa awoke far earlier than she meant to, thanks to the unpleasant sensation that she was being gradually crushed to death under a heavy weight. The first thing that popped into her mind was an account Professor Binns relayed to her class in their Fourth year, about an American squib who was suffocated one stone at a time during the witch hunts in Salem, Massachusetts.

Her second, more rational thought, was that it must be Lucius.

Though her husband hadn't attempted to have sex with her since the day she told him she was absolutely against having another baby, she assumed it made more sense if it were him on top of her rather than a bunch of small boulders, so without opening her eyes she said, "Get off me, Lucius."

"I'm not Lucius," a voice whispered. Narcissa's eyelids snapped up. It took her eyes a second to adjust to the blackness all around them, but when they did, she could see the outline of her older sister, Bellatrix.

"What are you doing?" Narcissa asked, alarmed.

"I don't feel good," whined Bellatrix. Her arms were folded, resting on Narcissa's chest, and even in the dark she looked paler than usual.

"Get off of me!" Narcissa demanded. When Bella did not comply, Cissy smacked her in the upper arm four times, each hit punctuated by a word: "Get. The. Hell. Off!"

With a sigh, Bella rolled off Narcissa onto her back beside her, where Lucius should have been sleeping, but his side of the bed was empty.

"Where is my husband?"

"Out. Good thing too, else this would've been terribly awkward."

"Why are you here?" Narcissa pushed herself into a semi-seated position and glanced toward the clock. It was half-past six. Far too early to be awake. Far too late for Lucius to still be out.

"I tollllld you," whined Bella. "I don't feeeeeel good. I'm siiiiiick."

"Fuck," said Narcissa, closing her eyes, praying for patience. "I have _two_ children. Draco… and you."

"Don't get mad, Cissy. Make me feel better. Get me a potion. Something for my stomach. I feel nauseous. And a little dizzy. And my back is sore. I'm dyyyyyinnng."

"Whatever's wrong with you, I assure you, you are _not_ dying, though if you don't leave me alone, I may kill you."

"Yes, I _am_ dying," insisted Bellatrix. "And you couldn't kill me if your life depended on it." She flung an arm over her face dramatically. "This is the end, Cissy. The end of me. This is how I'll leave the world. In an old nightshirt, hair a mess, weak and weary in the bed of my sister. A pathetic end to a decidedly fucked up existence, but one that utterly belies my worth as the Dark Lord's favorite, most faithful, and most loyal follower."

"I have no idea what to make of you, Bellatrix Black Lestrange," said Narcissa, sliding down and rolling over onto her side, head propped up on her hand, facing her sister. She took Bella's arm and removed it from across her face, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Sometimes you're so arrogant and haughty it's clear you look down on everyone, including me, which makes me want to kick you. Sometimes you're protective and affectionate and sweet, which makes me love you more, and then sometimes you're overly sexual, even aggressive with it, which creeps me out. Sometimes you're downright scary, so much so I don't think it's safe to speak around you. Sometimes you seem nothing short of fucking mental, which is the scariest of all. And yet sometimes you're like an overgrown child, whining and pouting and carrying on like you need a mummy, not a sister."

"You're hurting my feelings!" Bellatrix moaned, her eyes filling with tears.

"Are you _crying_?" Now Narcissa was really confused. "You don't cry. You never cry!"

"I'm not crying, you runty little bitch," snapped Bella. She sat up, crossed her arms across her chest, and puffed out her lower lip, but her tears ceased. "I'm sick and I haven't time to be sick, plus in general I thoroughly dislike being sick, so I was hoping you could brew me something to settle my stomach. I'm coming down with an awful disease, something contagious and possibly fatal, I just know it. I've been sick like this for almost a week."

Narcissa was reasonably certain this nausea of Bella's had been bothering her for more than 'almost a week,' but all she said was, "Fine. You apparate me off the grounds after breakfast and I'll go the apothecary in Diagon Alley, pick up a few things, then mix you a Stomach Settling Solution when I get back home. It should be ready before dinner tonight. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," said Bella. She adjusted her position until she was completely under the covers instead of on top of them, then rolled on her side so she was facing away from her sister, and closed her heavy-lidded eyes. "I'm going back to sleep now. I'm exhausted."

" _You're_ exhausted? I'm the one who got woken up at… wait, you can't sleep here! What about Lucius?"

"I told you," said Bella, eyes squeezed tightly shut, willing the swirling sickness in her stomach to subside. "He's out."

"Hey!" Narcissa tugged a strand of her sister's hair. "You're gray. Look! You've got… how have I not noticed? You've got a lot of gray."

"Sod off, I do not."

"Yes, you do! Have you been coloring it, or charming it away somehow? I didn't notice it…" She tried to remember the last time she'd seen her sister's hair completely down, but couldn't. "It starts at the roots and goes all the way down, a thick line! All gray! You've been hiding it, haven't you? For how long? But not now. Why?"

"Leave me alone." Bellatrix grabbed Lucius' pillow and shoved it over her head. "I'm trying to sleep. You're keeping me awake. That's rude. Quit being rude. Didn't anyone ever teach you any manners? Who was your mother? Were you raised in a barn? Were you raised by a Weasley?"

"You're ridiculous," replied Narcissa. "You climb on top of me, nearly suffocating me, and stare at me like a damn cat until I wake up, and you're asking if _I_ have any manners?"

"I was on top of you for a good ten minutes, and for fifteen minutes before that I tried to wake you up in other ways, but calling your name and pinching you. You'll probably have a bruise on your arm," Bella informed her, eyes still closed, voice muffled by the pillow. "How can anyone sleep so soundly?"

"I take a potion for it. I take two, actually. Dreamless Sleep to stave off the nightmares and a Ten Hour Sedative to keep me from waking too early."

"You're weak," said Bellatrix. She pulled the pillow out from under her and rested her head on it, folding and punching it until she was comfortable. "Only weak people need potions to keep them safe from their own dreams. I did almost fourteen years in Azkaban without Dreamless Sleep and I'm none the worse for it."

"Yeah, I'm sure Azkaban was a real joy for you," said Narcissa. "That's why you're the very picture of perfect mental health I see before me today."

Bella ignored this.

"Go back to sleep, Cissy. I have to be up in a few hours. I have responsibilities. I don't get to loaf around all day like you trophy wives do."

"I hate my fucking life," muttered Narcissa.

But she didn't mind when, a few minutes later, Bella rolled over and slipped an arm around her waist, the comforting way she used to do when they were children.

Soon, both sisters were sound asleep.

After breakfast, which Bella couldn't hold down, Narcissa went to her room to shower and change. It was a blustery, chilly day, so over her dark green dress she threw on a long black coat. She slipped her feet into fur-lined boots with a two inch heel, pulled her two-toned hair half-back, fastened it with a clip, then checked out her face in the mirror.

Damn.

She looked old.

And tired.

And dead-eyed. Like a corpse.

She needed makeup. Mascara, blush, lipstick. She pulled a few strands of hair down to frame her face, giving the style a less severe, more casual look.

There. That was better.

She'd rejoined the land of the living.

Once she felt she looked suitable, she took some money from the pouch Lucius left for her in their bedroom (she didn't have control over any of their funds, strictly speaking, but he made sure she had enough 'pocket change' for when she'd need it) and sought out Bellatrix.

Narcissa found her sister in the bedroom she was sharing with her husband, Rodolphus, who was now mostly healed from the Battle of the Seven Potters. He didn't even need his cane anymore, though Narcissa noticed that he was still walking slowly.

"Excellent! You're ready, love?" asked Bellatrix, not looking or sounding sick at all. She was putting on a diamond bracelet and wearing a long midnight blue brocade dress as if they were going somewhere other than on a quick shopping trip. Over it, she threw a long, loose-fitting black robe that was as plain as her dress was ornate. "Do I look okay?"

"You always do," said Narcissa, nodding, ever the supportive baby sister.

"Rodolphus, Cissy needs to do some shopping today so I'm going to apparate her off the grounds. We'll be back in a couple of hours. Don't go anywhere, though. We need to discuss… that thing. Tomorrow's plan."

"The Dark Lord told you to keep your nose out of tomorrow's plan," replied Rodolphus in a gruff voice. "It's the Ministry's work, not yours."

"Don't tell me where to keep my nose." Her voice was suddenly ice cold, on the precipice of warning, as she narrowed her heavy-lidded eyes at him.

" _I'm_ not telling you," Rodolphus snapped, settling himself uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, rubbing his sore knees. " _The Dark Lord_ told you. I'm merely _reminding_ you. So no need to take that bitchy tone with me."

Bellatrix slipped her wand from her pocket and swished it in his direction. Whatever hex she wordlessly sent his way knocked him straight backwards onto the floor, his feet in the air.

"Thanks for the reminder," she said sarcastically.

"What the ruddy hell?" he shouted, flailing. "Help me up!"

Narcissa moved to assist him. Bellatrix stopped her.

"He needs to learn to help himself," said Bella. "Or he's of no use to the Dark Lord. Come on, Cissy. Let's go."

"You crazy fucking cunt!" Rodolphus called after his wife. Bellatrix giggled and waved her hand. The door closed.

"Why do you do that to him?" asked Narcissa, when they were almost to the main hall. "He was only telling you what… what it sounds like you needed to hear, and you could have hurt him."

"It entertains me," said Bella simply, shrugging.

"You're a paradox," mused Narcissa. "A veritable puzzle. Sometimes I feel like I don't know you at all."

"Paradox? Veritable?" Bella raised an eyebrow as she opened the front door for them. "Big words for you. Have you come across a thesaurus in the library recently? I noticed you've been spending a lot of time there. I wondered what you were doing. Trying to expand your vocabulary, apparently. Mystery solved.."

Narcissa scowled. "Shut it."

"Shut what? The door?" Bella pulled it closed behind them. "It is done."

Narcissa was not amused. "Shut your mouth."

Bella let out a hearty laugh at this. "I adore you, little sister. You're my favorite. Come on, let's go." They hurried to the edge of the wards. "Once we're fifty feet from the door, which would be here, by this post, we can apparate. That is, anyone with a Dark Mark can apparate, and you can come with via side-along."

"I hate that I'm both trapped in and locked out of my own home while everyone else is free to come and go as desired."

"Such is life." Bella slipped her arm around her sister's waist. "Hang on."

They arrived in Knockturn Alley with a pop and walked to where it met Diagon Alley.

"This is where I'll leave you," said Bellatrix. She gave Narcissa a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for… for what you're doing. I have my own errands to run. See you back here in…" She checked her watch, "Two hours?"

"Plenty of time," agreed Narcissa. She wished she didn't have to fit herself into a time limit at all, but without her sister's help she wouldn't be able to apparate home. The second Bellatrix disapparated, Narcissa did the same. In truth, she had all the supplies she needed to make a Stomach Settling Solution at home. She'd used it herself not so long ago, when Lucius was in Azkaban and she realized she was pregnant but had to wait two weeks before she could take care of the issue. That aside, this gave her the perfect excuse to get out of the Manor, and an ideal alibi for the afternoon.

She arrived in the front yard of her sister Andromeda's home, a place she'd never seen before, and closer to the house than she would have liked. The home was nice, of modest size, with a path of white stones leading to the front step. With a deep breath, hand securely on her wand, Narcissa made her way to the door. She knocked the way they used to when they were girls, four times quickly, pause, twice, pause, once.

The curtain over the front window fluttered. A moment later, the door opened, just an inch.

"The hell do you want?" asked Andromeda, in a tone as harsh as Bella's had been when she'd gotten into it with Rodolphus earlier.

"I have a message for you. Trust me when I say you'll want to receive it."

The door opened a little wider, so Andromeda and Narcissa could see each other, but not enough to grant the latter entrance.

"What's your message?"

"May I come in?"

"No."

"It's imperative."

Andromeda's teeth clenched. She, too, was firmly gripping her wand. Finally, she stepped back, holding it out in front of her, and nodded. Slowly, Narcissa pushed open the door, and for the first time in nearly twenty-five years, she found herself face to face with her sister.

"Is anyone else here?" asked Narcissa. She kept her wand down by her side, even though Andromeda's was trained on the center of her chest, ready to strike if need be.

"My husband is right upstairs."

"Your daughter is out?"

Andromeda narrowed her eyes, which were as dark as Bella's, but wider, like Cissy's. Her hair was also a lot like Bella's, black and curly, though not as wild. Like her sisters, she had streaks of gray, but on Andromeda Narcissa thought it was sort of becoming, strands of silver mixed randomly into the rest, as opposed to taking over the roots, like Cissy's, or in one long streak, like Bella's.

"You're staring at me," said Andromeda, her wand still fixed on her sister.

"I'm sorry. It's just... it's been a long time."

"Both too long and not long enough," said Andromeda. She waved her wand and the door slammed closed behind Narcissa. "What do you care about my daughter's whereabouts?"

"Your husband is a Muggle-born," said Narcissa unnecessarily. "Have you received word from the Ministry that all Muggle-borns are required to register as such?"

"The Ministry sent you here to pressure him into registering? You can go back right this second and tell them we're not interested, on principal. My husband has as much right to his magic–"

"Andromeda, please," Narcissa interjected. She slipped her wand back into the pocket of her long coat. "I'm not here from the Ministry."

"Oh?" Andromeda raised a thin eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd finally gotten yourself a job, you know, to make yourself useful. I'm almost disappointed. Still playing the role of doting wife to your philandering husband, then? Who's he seeing now, Cissy? Someone younger, I'd bet. I've heard he likes them young."

Narcissa's cheeks went red and the tips of her ears burned, but she wouldn't take the bait, wouldn't fight back. This was too important.

"I am still married to Lucius, yes. But I'm here as your sister…"

"My sister?" Andromeda laughed just like Bella, bitter, snarky, and chilled. She shook her head, clearly amused. "We haven't been sisters in a long damn time."

"They're coming," said Narcissa, in a hurry to get the message out so she could go, unable to stand this coldness from her older sister, whom she actually missed very much, and had since the day they stopped speaking, when her choices had been support her sister, or remain on the side of Mother, Bella, and Lucius. She had, obviously, chosen the latter, but she couldn't pretend she'd never had moments of regret over it. "They're coming here."

"Who's coming?" asked Andromeda, looking panicked. "When?"

"Tomorrow. Two members of the Ministry and one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters-in-training. Our cousin, actually, on Mother's side, Juliet Rosier. You might remember her sister, Zillah? They plan to arrest your husband and take him to Azkaban. They're also going to torture your daughter unless she agrees to denounce the Order and join our side, because the Dark Lord thinks a Metamorph could be useful. If you resist, or try to defend them, the Ministry officials may arrest you, or even kill you. The Dark Lord wants to use you as an example, a cautionary tale about what happens when purebloods marry Mudbloods."

"We don't allow use of that word in my house," Andromeda said coolly, but Narcissa could tell by the way her eyes danced back and forth that she was nervously processing the information she'd just been handed, and panicking over what to do with it. "From whom did you receive this information?"

"I can't tell you," said Narcissa, "But I promise, I have it on good authority. Please don't tell anyone I was here. The Dark Lord will murder me without giving it a second thought. I shouldn't be here, but I wanted you to be forewarned. My advice is that your daughter shouldn't be home, at least not tomorrow, maybe not for a few days, but I don't think they'll come back for her. Tell them you wish to remain neutral - they'll think they can work with neutral, so they'll be more likely to appeal to you and let you go. Your husband, though, he should go on the run, go underground, get away. And _you_ should adjust the wards around your home. There's a flaw – anyone related to you by blood can bypass them without issue. That's how I got in. And if I can get in…"

"Bellatrix can get in," whispered Andromeda, white-faced. She lowered her wand hand.

"Not only her," said Narcissa, who honestly hadn't thought of that. "Juliet Rosier too. Since she's related to us by blood. She can apparate straight into your yard, and with her, the Ministry officials. I don't think you can stop them, it might be too dangerous for you to try, but at the very least, you shouldn't make it too easy for them to surprise you."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Andromeda, a tremor in her voice. "You're one of them."

"The Dark Lord set my son up to die last year," answered Narcissa, who noticed that Andromeda had begun to twirl her hair in that way Mother always hated – the same way Cissy herself always did out of habit. "He survived, but he wouldn't have, if not for..." She couldn't explain about Severus and the Unbreakable Vow, so she broke off and started fresh. "You're my _sister_ , Andromeda, no matter how much… how much time and space and bad blood have come between us."

From farther within the home, a cuckoo clock chimed, indicating it was now noon, one hour before Narcissa was set to meet Bellatrix.

"I have to go now. It's not safe for me to be here."

"No, it's not," agreed Andromeda, "But… thank you."

"Be safe," whispered Narcissa. "Goodbye."

She apparated away without exiting the home. Once back in Diagon Alley, she bought a few things so Bella wouldn't be suspicious, then got a glass of wine from that dusty pub on Knockturn Alley, and, when the two hours was up, she waited for Bellatrix at their meeting point. The eldest Black sister was fifteen minute late, and when she showed up, she seemed breathless and shaky.

"Just get some bad news?" asked Narcissa, eyebrows furrowed. "You look frazzled."

"I'm fine," insisted Bellatrix, but Cissy knew she was lying. "Let's hurry back to Malfoy Manor. I need you to brew me that potion. I feel sick again."

Once they were home, Bella went to the kitchen to demand a late lunch from a house elf, and Narcissa gathered the ingredients for the Stomach Settling Solution. She brewed it in the attic, in the cauldron she had previous used primarily to make Dreamless Sleep and the birth control potion. Once it was simmering and she had an hour to kill, she summoned her favorite owl, Rasputin, and jotted down a note on some parchment.

"Take this to Headmaster Severus Snape at Hogwarts," she said, tying it to his foot. "Do not be intercepted."

He let out a low hoot, as if to say he understood, and then flew through the round, open attic window off into the darkening sky. A storm was moving in. She hoped the owl would make it to his destination without being caught in the rain. While she was confident in his abilities, she didn't want the letter getting wet.

While she waited the rest of the hour, she read the book on Occlumency, determined to teach herself to close her mind.

It wasn't until nearly midnight the following day that Severus Snape received the owl.

 _I delivered the message in person this morning. I hope it did some good. Thanks._

 _-NM_

 _PS: I miss you._

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to my 2 new Followers and my 3 new Faves! An FYI anyone who read "Loyal to the Dark Lord," the next chapter of "Wanting Narcissa" takes place over the two days before Christmas, when Bellatrix is punished by Voldemort. If you have NOT read that one and want more background info before/after reading the next one, check it out, it's pretty short, but you definitely don't NEED to in order to get what's going on here. To answer some Qs, yes, it will technically have more Bella/Voldemort, but it will also be framed from the viewpoints of Snape and Narcissa, as 'outside' observers.

Consider this your abuse/assault **Trigger Warning** though, whether you read the other one or not.  
Thx! **AL  
**  
 **Half-as-beautiful** – Thank you so so so much! I loved your review. It made me smile. But I'm sorry to have broken your heart!

 **Firetemplar415** – Me too. It's just awful, the things people do to each other. Hard to write about in fiction, even harder to fathom in real life.

 **Harry Hobbit** , **Anotherdarkshado** , **Everything Hurts** , **Hello** , **PopularCats** & **Elphaba8385** – Thank you for continuing to read and review!


	19. December 23-24, 1997

**Chapter Nineteen – December 23** **rd** **-24** **th** **, 1997**

Narcissa started to suspect her sister was pregnant back in early September, before she'd woken up with Bella on top of her, whining about sickness, needing a Stomach Settling Solution, but it was such a horrible thought she tried to put it out of her mind. After a couple of weeks, when all seemed to be back to normal, she figured perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps her sister simply was _sick._

Over the last month, however, Bellatrix had started to gain weight. And cry. And she was eating things she'd never liked before. Peanut butter cookies were her favorite. Narcissa liked to bake them (when Lucius was out) and Bellatrix like to eat them. Which wasn't so strange, though she'd never really had a sweet tooth.

No, what was strange was that she liked to wash them down with pickle juice, rather than milk.

Actual pickle juice, from a jar that had actually held actual pickles.

Sometimes she even dipped her peanut butter cookies in the pickle juice, which was enough to turn Narcissa's stomach.

But Bellatrix said nothing, so Narcissa figured perhaps her sister didn't want anyone to know, and she certainly wasn't going to be the one to ask. Asking Bella _anything_ these days was to risk one's very life, for she flew off the handle at the littlest thing, and was difficult to rein in again.

On December 23rd, the Dark Lord had a meeting. He wanted to discuss his plan to trap Harry Potter, using the Lovegood girl, who was imprisoned in the dungeon below Malfoy Manor, by forcing her father to wait for the boy then summon the Dark Lord when he inevitably arrived. Narcissa, has she had been more often lately, was permitted to be in this meeting, as was Severus Snape, whom she had not seen since the day he admitted to having slept with her cousin and passed along the warning for Andromeda. Lucius, Draco, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan, were all, of course, present, as were Macnair, Thorfinn Rowle, Yaxley from the Ministry, Hortensia Higgins (much to Bella's dismay, as she loathed the woman who'd been the youngest to receive the Dark Mark), Crabbe, Goyle, and… _her_. That little bitch. Juliet Rosier.

Juliet chose the seat beside Severus, across the table from the Malfoys, but the 'come hither' look she sent to Lucius as she settled into her chair made Narcissa's blood boil.

"Good evening, Narcissa," said Juliet, flashing that catty smile. "It's certainly been awhile. I take it you're well?"

"Yes, thank you, Juliet. Darling?" Narcissa turned to her husband. "Isn't it uncanny how much my cousin looks like our son? Same blond hair, same gray eyes, same heart-shaped lips. They could be brother and sister, don't you think? They're not even that far apart in age."

Lucius' mouth dropped slightly open, as he found himself at a loss for words. Feeling smug, Narcissa flashed a grin at Juliet, who was staring daggers back at her.

Then Narcissa caught the eye of Severus, and she immediately blushed. He was hiding a smirk, she could tell, but when she heard his voice in her head, the words were, predictably, " _Clear your mind_."

She put forth her best effort to do so.

The Dark Lord did nearly all of the speaking, of course, save for when Bellatrix interrupted Him, to inform Him that His plan was flawed, and would probably fail as a result, because even Potter wasn't that stupid.

And, in response, He'd thrown her out. Said she was dismissed. When she practically refused to go, he ordered her husband to remove her from the room and return without her.

This had scared Narcissa. She had seen the Dark Lord punish His followers, even His most faithful and most loyal, for far less than insubordination and expressing doubt. She had a feeling tossing her sister out of the room wasn't the worst He would do.

After a tense dinner with only her immediate family, which they ate in the kitchen (Draco said he couldn't stomach doing it in the dining room, on account of the fact he'd seen Hogwarts' Professor Charity Burbage murdered and subsequently devoured by the Dark Lord's snake there shortly before school started) Narcissa retired early, complaining of a headache, but she brought an entire bottle of elf made wine and a long stemmed glass into the bedroom with her.

Lucius, as he'd done so often in the last few months, went out, presumably to continue "teaching" Juliet Rosier whatever it was she had yet to learn. Some nights he didn't even bother to come home, and he'd initiated sex with his wife fewer than half a dozen times since their "no more children" discussion in early September, which left her feeling, as she had before striking up the affair with Severus, rejected and alone.

Draco locked himself in his room, regretting giving into his mother's insistence that he return home over Christmas break when he could have stayed at school… returning to Malfoy Manor felt like an especially poor decision since Pansy Parkinson had hinted the day before break that she was going to let him get under her knickers soon. Throwing himself backward onto his bed, he thought about what the next few days would bring. Afternoon tea with his depressed mother? Occlumency lessons with his crazy aunt? An uncomfortable Christmas dinner with the Dark Lord? He sighed. Yeah, he'd have been much happier at Hogwarts, feeling up Pansy, even if she was kind of clingy.

Locked in her own room, Narcissa paced. She felt like a caged circus cat, longing to escape, itching to attack, but with nowhere to go and no way to survive on her own.

It had been over two months since she sent that note to Severus, with the PS admitting she missed him. He's responded promptly, with, _I know. But you shouldn't. –SS_ and she'd cried. Then she sent him four more Owls over the next seven weeks and he ignored each one, which made her cry more. She knew he was in love with Lily Potter, he'd made that much clear, but surely he couldn't feel _nothing_ toward her?

She drank more than three-quarters of wine in the bottle before downing Dreamless Sleep and getting into bed, annoyed with herself because she hadn't brewed the Ten Hour Sedative recently and would therefore have to rely solely on the alcohol to knock her out.

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Severus was pacing too, in the Headmaster's office which was now his. He'd done as Dumbledore ordered and delivered the Sword of Gryffindor to Harry Potter without the boy realizing it had come from him, but what now?

Severus Snape was tired. He was tired of the war. Tired of pretending to be loyal to the wrong cause. Tired of being looked upon as the enemy by Minerva McGonagall, Fillius Flitwick, and Horace Slughorn professors he'd always respected, dating as far back as his own days at Hogwarts. He was tired of the way Aurora Sinistra looked upon him with fear, and the way Poppy Pomfrey's eyes filled with tears whenever he went up to the hospital wing during the course of his duties. He was tired of hearing Pomona Sprout call him "Snape" instead of Severus for the first time since he was her student, and he was tired of Hagrid shooting him looks of betrayal down the staff table during meals and he was tired of the way Septima Vector regarded him with suspicion, even though he'd known her better than most of their colleagues for over fifteen years.

And more than any of that, he was so damn tired of pining over a woman he'd lost nearly two decades ago – first because of his stupid desire to join the Death Eaters, and then, permanently, to the killing curse of the Dark Lord. He was tired of worrying about the fate of her only son. Tired of the suffering surrounding him. Tired of not being able to tell her son how in love with her he'd been.

Oh, and he was especially sick and tired of Albus-fucking-Dumbledore, who continued to control him as if he were a marionette on strings.

"You were invited to the Malfoys for Christmas, were you not?" asked Dumbledore's portrait, interrupting Severus' angst-ridden pacing. "Why don't you go?"

"Yes," said Severus dryly. "That should go over well. Lucius is seeing a woman he thinks he stole from me, while his wife is secretly sending me desire-laden Owls on a bi-weekly basis, and their son has made it quite clear that he is no longer interested in being my star pupil… not that I have pupils anymore, technically speaking."

"You're interested in her?" asked Dumbledore, his half-moon spectacles slipping down to the edge of his crooked nose. Severus shot him a look that clearly expressed how little he wanted to discuss Narcissa, but the former headmaster pressed on. "It is okay, you know, to feel affection for more than one woman at a time, Severus."

Severus wasn't sure how Dumbledore even knew about his fling with Narcissa, since he'd never spoken of it. He also wondered how long the man had known. When he was still alive, had he known then? Or had he figured it out while in portrait form, perhaps by reading over Severus' shoulder when he sat at the desk, sending her notes in the enchanted notebook? Had he used Legillimency? Could a portrait use Legillimency if it were a skill the person had had in life?

"I feel nothing for anyone," replied Severus, though he and Dumbledore both knew this was not true.

Hours later, well after midnight, Headmaster Snape was straightening up his desk, preparing to head to bed, when his Dark Mark burned. He used the Floo network to move quickly from his personal chambers at Hogwarts to his parlor at Spinner's End, where slimy Wormtail was temporarily staying for the almost sole purpose of keeping the fire going, and from there disapparated to the grounds of Malfoy Manor.

He let himself in and went straight to the Dark Lord's primary room on the third floor wing. He knocked.

"Enter," hissed the Dark Lord. The door opened to him without his having to touch it. Upon entry, the Dark Lord stared at Snape, silent and expressionless, for several seconds.

"You summoned me, my Lord?" said Severus.

"Yes," He said. He gestured to the left side of the large room, toward the queen-sized bed, where a half-dressed figure with a mop of black hair was curled up in the fetal position on top of the covers. "Don't let her die."

"Is that…?" Severus took a step closer. He could see the blood on her face, could make out swelling around her throat. Her eyes were closed. Her face was unrecognizable. "What happened to her?"

"Don't let her die," said the Dark Lord again, but there was no caring in His voice, no emotion at all. It was an order, like any other order.

"I will do all I can," said Severus. The Dark Lord nodded.

"You may apparate in and out of this room for one hour only. I have lifted the wards. Thus if you need supplies…"

"Yes, my Lord."

"When you are through healing her, return her to her bedroom, watch over her to ensure she will not relapse, then, when you are confident in the job you have done, fetch her sister, and summon me."

"Is… is that Bellatrix?"

Without confirming, the Dark Lord disapparated. Severus walked slowly toward the bed, a feeling of foreboding climbing up inside him. He stepped over her dress, which was torn and discarded on the floor. She was wearing a short black slip, silk, with spaghetti straps. It left little to the imagination. He felt her neck for a pulse. She was alive, but barely breathing.

In order to discern how to best help her, he quickly checked her over. She was bleeding, that much was obvious. From her nose, from her lip, from a cut above her eye. There was blood on the slip. There was blood on her thighs.

"Fuck," he swore, voice low. He didn't like Bellatrix (quite the opposite, really) but he didn't like seeing her like this either. Save for that afternoon, when she'd been wearing loose-fitting robes and was seated the entire time, he hadn't seen her in months, so he was surprised to find she'd gained weight, a relatively significant amount, all in her midsection. He pressed a hand to her lower belly, then waved his wand over her, muttering the same incantation Lucius had used without consent when trying to determine if Narcissa had yet managed to conceive. The tip of his wand lit up, green.

Positive.

"Fuck," he swore again. "You're pregnant?"

He remembered that Narcissa had told him her sister had wanted a baby, wanted a daughter who looked just like her, or a son to serve the Dark Lord, but he didn't know she'd actually gotten knocked up. He wondered whether it belonged to her husband, but he suspected – call it a hunch – that the baby was fathered by none other than the Dark Lord Himself.

Severus assessed the damage. Most worrisome was her shallow breathing, no doubt from the swelling around her neck and the front of her throat. Clearly she'd been choked, probably repeatedly. Knowing what he needed, Severus apparated to his home on Spinner's End, threw several potions and a salve into a small pouch, and returned within minutes. Her breathing was still slow, raspy. That would need to be treated first.

He tipped her head back, forcing open her mouth, and poured the potion in, then massaged her throat as tenderly as he could so that she swallowed it.

Once she was breathing without distress, he set to cleaning her up, figuring that would best help him figure out what she needed next.

Using Aquamenti and a washcloth he'd taken from home, he wiped the blood from her lip, her nose, her eye, and finally from between her legs. She wasn't a virgin, so he didn't understand why there was blood at all. Of course, he wasn't a midwife or Healer, as he would need to remind the Dark Lord later, so what did he know?

"Fuck," he swore for the third time, wiping the wet cloth over her more intimate areas. Perhaps something was… torn? Or had something happened to the baby? But the test still read Positive, thus she couldn't have lost it…

Using his wand and the same incantation he'd utilized to heal Draco from Potter's Sectumsempra, Severus did what he could. Then he opened a tub of salve of his own creation, one that would treat her bruises, and applied it anywhere she seemed to be injured, which was almost everywhere. He tried not to be uncomfortable as he rubbed it into some of her more personal areas, like her chest and inner thighs, and though he did so with the utmost professionalism he knew it would bother her once she came to – assuming she came to – to learn that he'd done so for her.

Once he was certain she would survive, he tried to wake her, first by calling her name, slightly shaking her, then by splashing cold water on her face, and finally using Ennervate, but to no avail. She'd obviously been tortured using the Cruciatus Curse, and who knows what else, but he had no idea why she wouldn't wake up.

"Bellatrix?" he said, in the most docile tone he could manage. "Bellatrix, can you hear me?"

Her eyes fluttered open, only enough for him to see the whites, then closed again.

"Bella?" He thought perhaps using her sister's nickname for her might help. Perhaps it did. This time her eyes opened fully, though they were completely unfocused.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" he asked even though he knew the answer. He just wanted to know if _she_ knew.

"The Dark Lord," she whispered, voice raspy.

"Why?"

Her eyes started to close again. He patted her cheek, almost a slap, but to keep her awake, not to hurt her. "Why, Bellatrix? Why did He hurt you?"

"I… corrected His grammar…" Her eyes rolled up until all he could see was white, even though they were still fully open. He gathered her into his arms, hoping he would not run into anyone while carrying her through the halls, and moved her to her own bedroom, as the Dark Lord had instructed.

He knocked on the door, but Rodolphus was out, so he entered without permission. He laid her gently on the bed, noticing that her eyes were again closed (one was so swollen and already purple that he almost couldn't believe it had opened at all) and brushed her hair back away from her face.

He thought about getting Narcissa for this next part, but decided against it, since he was going to have to bother her soon anyway – the Dark Lord had, after all, asked to see them both once saving Bellatrix was done. Severus figured it was better Narcissa not be upset or overly emotional when they saw the Dark Lord, else her mind might accidentally give far too much away. So Severus went to the dresser. On his third attempt he located the drawer that held her sleepwear, pulled out a nightshirt, then found her undergarments.

He sat her up, propped against the headboard, to remove her slip and pull on the nightshirt. Once she was dressed, he laid her back down, and tried again to revive her.

She opened one eye, that one that wasn't going to be black and blue in the morning, and seemed to recognize him (judging by the flash of pure hatred that greeted his own gaze). Despite the magnitude of the situation, this made him smile.

"There's our lovely girl," he said. Her lip curled into a snarl. "How are you feeling?"

She opened her mouth to answer but all that came out was a strangled sounding cough. He tried a new tactic: Legillimency. He put his words directly into her head, hoping she'd respond the same way.

"How are you feeling?" he thought.

"Like I've been trampled by hippogriffs," she mentally replied.

"What did He do?" thought Severus.

"I don't remember," she mentally replied.

"You're pregnant," thought Severus.

She nodded.

"Is it His? Is it the heir of the Dark Lord?"

Again, she nodded.

"For fuck's sake," said Severus aloud. He had broken concentration, thus whatever she thought next, he did not 'hear.'

She tried again to communicate, this time out loud.

"Severus," she whispered, a tremor in her raspy voice. Her good eye was opened wide and full of fear. She clutched the front of his robes. "Severus, I hurt."

"I know," he said. "I have something for that. Open your mouth."

She complied, and he administered another potion, this one for pain relief, which she swallowed independently, though it burned going down.

"One more," he said. This one was to knock her out. She'd be asleep for a good twelve hours. She accepted it without question, and within moments, the eyelid of her good eye was drooping closed. Her breathing, though still a bit wheezy, became shallow and even. She was asleep.

He watched over her for about an hour, in case her condition changed for the worse, but when it seemed she would survive he went off to find Rodolphus.

It took a few minutes, but finally he discovered her husband hidden away in a guest room, in bed with a woman who was – _obviously_ – not his wife.

"Bellatrix has been punished by the Dark Lord," Severus said, ignoring the fact that he'd clearly just interrupted the prelude to an intimate act. "She will need someone to stay by her side tonight. The entire night. The Dark Lord is adamant that she not die, and I will not be her babysitter. So I suggest you finish up as quickly as you are able and return to your own room. And you…" He looked to the woman, a low-level Death Eater. "You may wish to return to the home of your husband. It is late. Surely Thorfinn is wondering where you've gone."

Severus then went off in search of Narcissa.

She was sound asleep, as he'd expected she would be, and alone, since Lucius was, presumably, out again with Juliet. She was almost as difficult to wake as her sister had been. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see him. When she spoke, he could smell the liquor on her breath.

"Are you drunk?" he asked. It would not be ideal to bring her to the Dark Lord if she was drunk. Drunk minds are open minds.

"Not drunk enough," she said, rubbing her temples. "I still remember my name."

"The Dark Lord has requested your presence. Get up."

She threw on a dressing gown and followed him to the Dark Lord's chambers. As they walked she asked him what was going on, but she shook his head.

"I cannot tell you. Not yet. But when we are in front of the Dark Lord, it is imperative you _clear your mind_. Can you manage that?"

"I'll do my best, Professor," she answered snottily. Her head hurt from the wine.

He shot her a look.

"You've been ignoring me," she said in an accusatory tone as they headed up the stairs to the third floor. "I've sent you several Owls."

"It is better for both of us that way," he said. "Don't think about it now. Clear your mind."

"You already said that."

"It bears repeating."

She rolled her eyes.

Severus summoned the Dark Lord from the hall. A moment later, the door opened to them. They entered. Narcissa felt a ball of worry form in the pit of her stomach as the throbbing in her head got worse.

 _Clear your mind,_ she told herself. _Clear your mind. Brick wall. Ocean. Clear your mind._

"Welcome," said the Dark Lord. "Severus, your job is done?"

"It is, my Lord."

"Very well. Did she awaken?"

"She did, briefly."

"Did you communicate with her?"

"I did."

"So you know of her… _condition_?"

"I do."

The Dark Lord nodded. He gestured for Severus to move closer to Him. "I wish to see."

Severus mentally replayed for Him the 'conversation' with Bellatrix. When the Dark Lord realized Severus knew who had gotten into… _that condition_ … His red eyes narrowed into slits. Narcissa shuddered.

"I thought as much, though you should not have asked her," the Dark Lord said. "Now… You…" He beckoned to Narcissa, who stood frozen in the doorway. "You will act as Bonder as Severus makes the Unbreakable Vow."

"I've never done this before," whispered Narcissa, taking her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown. Her hands were shaking. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever promise Severus Snape was about to make to their master but knew she had no choice in the matter. The Dark Lord clearly did not care about her discomfort.

"If you value the life of your sister, you'll manage."

For the briefest moment, Narcissa thought He meant Andromeda. Perhaps Snatchers had finally caught up with her husband, Ted Tonks, who had been on the run since the day Narcissa warned Andromeda the Ministry was planning to pay them a visit. Her stomach churned.

 _Clear your mind,_ she reminded herself. Then she looked to Severus, but before she could ask any stupidly revealing questions, he explained.

"Bellatrix is not well, but she will live."

"Bellatrix?"

"Bellatrix has a secret," said the Dark Lord, shifting His eyes from Narcissa to Severus and back again. "A secret we do not wish to see leaked to our adversaries. Forgive me, Severus, if it seems that I doubt your loyalty–"

"Of my loyalty, sir, I can assure you–"

"Do not interrupt. I shall rephrase. It is not that I doubt your loyalty, but rather that I have my reservations when it comes to trusting one's human nature. You, Severus, are only human. To err is human. So in order to protect her – and by extension, our cause – I will have you make the Unbreakable Vow, swearing that you'll not reveal her condition... or any information surrounding what led us here, assuming you understand what I mean by this. Narcissa, presumably, does not know to what I am alluding, and is therefore appropriately perplexed. Confirm." The Dark Lord nodded toward Narcissa. His last word was clearly a command. Severus placed two fingers below Narcissa's chin and guided her face toward his, making eye contact. She fought back a shiver, as this was the first time he'd touched her in months – since the day he'd held her bruised hand, and she'd kissed him goodbye, way back at the beginning of August.

She was aware that he was poking about in her mind but what he sought to find she genuinely did not know – not that she would give anything up. Just as he'd advised, she pictured an ocean, and beyond it a brick wall, repeating over and over again those three words: _Clear your mind. Clear your mind. Clear your mind._

"She is completely unaware," Severus assured the Dark Lord. He would not admit it, but he was impressed. He hadn't found what he was looking for, but it wasn't necessarily because what he was looking for wasn't there… it was because she had successfully blocked him out. Granted, he hadn't tried all that hard to break into her mind, but he was proud of her successful attempt at beginner's Occlumency all the same.

The Dark Lord nodded. "Then we begin."

Worry danced clearly across Narcissa's face. Of the three Black sisters, she was always least adept at hiding her true feelings, and, at the moment, she had so very much to hide.

 _Clear your mind._

"What am I asking him to promise, my Lord?"

"He will keep secret her condition. He will not reveal the circumstances surrounding it to anyone. And he will, over these next five months, do all that is within his power to keep her alive."

"Is she dying, my Lord?" asked Narcissa, a tremble in her voice.

"No questions. Take out your wand."

The Dark Lord and Severus Snape clasped each other's wrists. Narcissa hovered her wand above their hands, as she'd seen her sister do when presiding over the Vow at Spinner's End, when Snape promised to keep Draco from harm and carry out his task, should he be unable to manage it.

"You're aware of the incantation?" asked Severus in his usual reserved drawl. "It must be done nonverbally."

"Yes," whispered Narcissa. "I'm ready." She took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and began. "Do you, Severus Snape, vow to keep secret the current condition of my sister, Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"I do."

"Do you, Severus Snape, vow not to reveal the circumstances the led to Bella's condition to anyone?"

"I do."

"And do you, Severus Snape, vow to do all that is within your power to keep my sister alive over these next five months?"

"I do."

Around their hands appeared three red-gold lines that moved and swirled, bonding them in the Unbreakable Vow. The Dark Lord let go of Severus Snape's wrist first and nodded at Narcissa.

"You have done as requested and may go."

"Yes, my Lord."

"You too, Severus. I wish to be alone."

"Yes, my Lord."

When they were in the hall far enough away from the Dark Lord's chambers that they felt it was safe to speak, Narcissa grabbed Severus' arm and turned him toward her.

"What happened to my sister?" she asked. "What condition is she in?"

"I have just made the Unbreakable Vow preventing me from revealing that," said Severus with a sneer. "Or weren't you there?"

"I…yes. I'm sorry…"

"She's alive. She's asleep. Try not to worry. I instructed her husband to watch over her for tonight. In the morning, you can see her for yourself."

"It's already morning…" She gestured toward the nearest window, through which the first streaks of light were shining through as the sun rose through low-hanging clouds.

"And I've missed out on an entire night's sleep. I'm going back to Hogwarts. Only call on me in an absolute emergency."

"Will you also keep secret… that other thing?" asked Narcissa.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"What an odd question, considering…"

"When He said my sister, I thought he meant Andromeda."

"Andromeda is fine."

"Can we be certain?"

He smiled in a way that was somehow placating but lacked condescension. "You worry too much, Narcissa."

"I worry about my family," she replied, stepping closer to him. "I worry about everyone I care about. I'm not built for war. I'm not strong enough."

"I think you're stronger than you give yourself credit for." Now he stepped closer. They were separated by mere inches.

"She's my sister. If the Dark Lord knew…"

"Sometimes you surprise me," he interjected, leaning in toward her, his hand making its way to her waist, drawing her close. "I wouldn't have thought you could teach yourself to block your mind, but when I probed it tonight, all I could see were an ocean and a wall."

"I found a book in the library," she whispered, sliding her right hand up his chest, happy to be near him, hoping he still wanted her, because she very badly wanted him. "I've been practicing, as you suggested."

"I'm impressed." He hated himself in this moment, knowing what he was about to do, after months of ignoring her Owls, of keeping his distance, of unfulfilling sex with other women (two, not including Juliet, but nothing regular nor with any emotional attachment), and of reminding himself daily that he loved only Lily, that Lily was the reason he went on living, the reason he did all that he knew he had to do to help Potter succeed in taking down the Dark Lord.

But she looked so beautiful. Even with her hair a mess, even in her dressing gown, without makeup, her eyes slightly bloodshot from having been drinking excessively earlier, she still looked beautiful… and he was longing to escape from the evening he'd just had, from what he'd just seen, from what he knew the Dark Lord had done to Bellatrix…

He was longing for a gentle touch…

He was longing for her…

So, even though he hated himself for it, he cupped her face with his free hand, the other still securely at her waist, and brought his lips down to hers.

She responded immediately, first by moving her hand from his chest to the back of his neck, then by parting her lips, deepening their kiss. Her other hand moved to his lower back, holding him close, as the hand that had been on her waist moved to her ass. He grinded against her, pinning her to the wall, but continued to kiss her softly, tenderly, as Shakespearean lovers would do on stage. He moved his lips to the spot below her ear, and along her jaw, to her chin, and back up to her mouth as she held onto him as if for dear life. Over and over again they kissed, pouring into each other all of the loneliness and longing and lust and pain they'd both been feeling over the past few months… perhaps even the past few years. Decades. Forever.

His hand moved from her face to her neck to her shoulder to her waist to her thigh, which he lifted up, holding her leg so she was half-straddling him, wanting so much more than merely to kiss her.

"Take me to bed, Severus," she requested pleadingly as he sucked at her neck. He was still caressing her thigh, flush against her. "My husband is out. He'll never know…"

He tried to answer her, to tell her this would be irresponsible, impossible, but what came out was a groan as he struggled to avoid becoming aroused, knowing it was only a matter of time before he'd have to break away from her and be gone, and he didn't want things to progress too far before he did so. He released her leg but continued to kiss her, letting his hands roam over her back, over her chest… her breathing became heavy, erratic… as did his… and she dug her nails into his shoulders…

"Well, what've we got going on here?" asked a voice from down the hall. Narcissa and Severus froze, making panicked eye contact, then, abruptly, he released her, backing away.

"How you gonna lecture me on being faithful to my wife, Snape, when here it appears you been screwing your comrade's missus, right here in his own home?"

"We were hardly _screwing_ , Rodolphus," said Narcissa, trying to appear dignified, which usually came easily for her, but what considerably more difficult considering her current appearance and the state in which he'd stumbled upon her.

"Havin' a snog then," he said, limping slightly as he hurried down the hall toward them. "Havin' a Christmastime snog with your closest friend's wife. Won't Lucius find this interesting?"

"If you tell him what you've seen, what's to stop me telling your wife what I've seen?" asked Severus. Rodolphus' eyes widened and for the first time Narcissa wondered if he might actually be frightened of Bellatrix, but the look lasted only a millisecond before his eyes crinkled and the corners of his mouth turned up.

"Guess it's a comfort to know I didn't marry the only slag in the Black family," said Rodolphus. Narcissa, without thinking about it, reached into her pocket to grip her wand. "Tell me, Cissy, are you two actually having an affair, or are you just whoring yourself out for the night the way your sister does?"

"Obliviate!" snapped Narcissa, shoving her wand in his face. His face went slack, his eyes dim. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"This is the second time you've impressed me tonight," he said. "Good thing you reacted so… quickly. I was considering knocking him out to protect your honor." He said this in a sardonic tone, hidden under a half-smirk. Though she knew he wouldn't really have punched her brother-in-law, it made her smile anyway.

"Who was he with," whispered Narcissa, her wand still trained on him, just in case.

"Euphemia Rowle," Severus answered. He patted Rodolphus on the arm.

"What's going on?" Rodolphus asked, clearly confuzzled. "What'm I doin' here?"

"You're on your way to your room, dear," explained Narcissa, sounding a bit like a schoolteacher trying to impart a bit of wisdom into the mind of a sweet-but-clueless student. She slipped her wand back into her pocket. "Your wife has been punished by the Dark Lord and needs you to look over her while she sleeps. Go on, there now. Hurry up. That's a good lad."

"Right," he said, nodding, scratching his chin, hurrying down the hall as she'd instructed. "Right, that's what I was doing."

Once he was out of earshot, Narcissa giggled.

"He won't remember a thing."

"That was a strong one," said Severus.

"It was the first spell I ever performed, remember? I told you that once. Stepfather let me use it on Andromeda before I was even old enough to have my own wand."

"Why?"

"Because I hadn't turned eleven yet."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut, seeking patience. Sometimes, despite being an intelligent woman, she could be truly dense.

"No, Narcissa, I mean why did he let you Obliviate your sister?"

"Oh! Well… I think that's perhaps a story for another day. It's officially Christmas Eve, Severus. Will you join us for dinner tomorrow?"

"I shouldn't, if for no other reason than because the Headmaster should remain at Hogwarts over the holidays."

"Then when will I see you again?"

"You should not see me again," he said. "We should not be doing this. That could have been _your_ husband down the hall."

"Don't be ridiculous, darling," she said. "I never would've married Rodolphus."

Severus wasn't sure whether she was being intentionally cheeky, but this made him laugh.

"Have you slept with anyone lately?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his waist. Though he knew it was unwise, he wrapped his own arms around her. They stood in the hall, simply holding each other.

"Yes," he said, "But not your cousin. She's done with me."

"Who, then?"

"You're not going to like it. Why do you want to know?"

"Because I do. I want to know if I've truly ruined sex for you, or if it turns out Juliet just wasn't any good. I'm not sure which I'm hoping for."

"You've ruined it for me _and_ she's not very good."

"I'm okay with that. So who? Anyone I know?"

"Hortensia Higgins."

"That self-involved toad?" Narcissa kissed his shoulder. "I thought you had better taste. Bellatrix hates her because she received the Dark Mark at such a young age. Bella's jealous."

"Bellatrix hates her because she spent the entirety of the First War throwing herself at the Dark Lord, inviting Him to do to her whatever He wanted. That's why your sister is jealous."

"When were you with her? How many times?"

"It was once," said Severus. "Halloween. I ran into her at the pub. I was drinking and she was available. But I didn't enjoy it."

"Well, that makes it okay then." She said this without the hurt she'd used last time she'd uttered those words in response to discovering he'd been with someone else. "Who else?"

"Just a friend," he answered. "We've been together maybe three dozen times over the last ten years, most recently back in mid-November. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Why?"

"Why don't you need to worry?"

"Why did you go to bed with your _just a friend_?"

He sighed, kissed her forehead, then hugged her to him again, wondering how honest he could afford to be.

"I don't want to think about you all the time," said Severus, deciding to tell her the truth. "I thought it might help to distract me to strike up a familiar fling with an old friend."

"Did it help?"

"No."

"Because you want me?" she asked hopefully.

After a too-long pause that made her nervous, he answered, "Yes."

"I want you too." She kissed him. "You realize, including me, you've slept with four women in the last six months?"

"So?"

"So that's twice as many as I've slept with in my whole life!"

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. "I wasn't aware you'd slept with women."

"I… what? No! I didn't mean… I meant…" Her pale face blushed tomato red, so much so that even her nose and the tips of her ears were burning. "I meant you've been with four women in six months and I've been with two men in my entire…" She broke off, catching the grin he was halfheartedly attempting to hide. "You're a horse's ass, you know."

He laughed. "You're just upset because now I know you've slept with women. Look at you. Your cheeks have gone pink."

"They have not."

"Yes they have." He kissed one of her cheeks, then the other. "Completely pink."

"You're horrible."

"You like me horrible."

"You're right, I do." She threw her arms up around him, her hands clasped at the back of his neck, pressing her upper body against his.

"I was acting on some ill-gotten advice," said Severus, moving his hands to her ass. "A not-so-wise woman once told me, 'the best way to get over one woman is to get on top of another.'"

"That's crass," said Narcissa. "Who told you that?"

He laughed. "Your sister."

"Andromeda?"

"Of course not Andromeda."

"Bellatrix?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any other sisters?"

"Don't take advice from Bella." Narcissa placed a quick peck on his jaw. "She's mental. Let's go out."

"What?" He wasn't expecting this segue. "Go out? Us? Now?"

She released her grip around his neck, stepped back, and smiled.

"Not now, but yes, us. We should go out. How about… New Year's Eve? I'm certain Lucius will be… otherwise occupied… he won't even notice. I'll make you dinner, you can apparate us off the grounds. Don't tell me Hogwarts needs you. You can escape that damn school for a few hours without having to worry about it falling apart. Dumbledore used to, didn't he? When he had business at the Ministry? Just leave McGonagall in charge. She shouldn't have plans that night, right? I can't imagine she still dates. Oh!" Narcissa clapped a hand over her mouth. "Merlin's beard!"

"What?"

"That's not who you've had a fling with, is it? McGonagall?"

Severus' face screwed up in disgust. "Minerva? Seriously? She's seventy!"

"I don't know what you're into," said Narcissa with an offhanded shrug, placing one hand on her hip. "Older women might be your fetish. I've heard about men into weirder. My own husband wants to see me with my sister. Men are vile, perverse creatures who cannot be trusted."

"You know, _you're_ an older woman," he said, again wrapping an arm around her waist. "So perhaps I reacted too quickly. Perhaps you're onto something. Perhaps you older women _are_ my – what did you call it? – my… _fetish_."

"Call me an older woman again and I'll do worse than Obliviate you," she snapped, but she smiled, placated, when he placed a tender kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"The only place you should be worried about going is bed," he murmured, his lips still nearly touching hers.

"Fine, I'll go to bed." She pressed her lips to his briefly then pulled away, flashing him a naughty smile. "Will you come with me?"

"Why? So Lucius can get home and discover us together? Absolutely not. Go get some sleep. Check on your sister in a few hours. I'll return tomorrow to see how she's healing."

He caught the horrified, guilty expression on Narcissa face.

"I forgot," she whispered. "I forgot about her."

"She'll be fine," he assured her. "Thanks to the potion I gave her, she'll be out for a good twelve hours. Don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll try not to worry," said Narcissa, "But you and I both know I'll worry anyway."

He kissed her gently. "I know."

Once he was gone and she was back in her bedroom (alone) she downed what little was left of the red wine from the night before and crawled back under the covers, wondering when her husband would return, and where he had been, and wondering whom Severus had slept with, and why he'd hooked up with that awful Hortensia Higgins, of all women. Had he really been trying to put Narcissa out of his mind? But what about Lily? Was he still in love with Lily?

And what was Bella's "condition" that they needed to keep a secret? Was the Dark Lord referring to her pregnancy? Though her sister had denied it the _one_ time Narcissa drummed up the courage to ask her directly whether she might be with child, the younger Black sister remained reasonably certain she was. No sane, non-pregnant person would ever dip peanut butter cookies in pickle juice.

She then wondered for the millionth time whether her sister had ever slept with her husband. She'd caught him looking at her again just the other day, in that hungry way he'd done so often when they were newlyweds, right up through the Dark Lord's fall, when Bella went to Azkaban. She both loved and hated Lucius. Loved him for all of their history, for marrying her, for not minding about her troubled childhood, for promising to always keep her safe, for being a better father than she was a mother (when Draco was a baby). But she hated him too, for stepping out on her, for seeking satisfaction in the arms of other women, for treating her so coldly once she told him she wanted no more children, for getting her into this situation with Snape… but, conversely, despite how much it hurt to be denied and ignored by him, the situation with Snape made her happier than anything else going on in her life over the last couple of years, so could she really hate Lucius for that? And Draco, what do to with Draco? He was an adult now, technically. Halfway done with his last year at Hogwarts. Already a Death Eater. Serving the Dark Lord. She hated Lucius for that. But loved him for giving her their son. Damn it, it was all so complicated, at least as complicated as her feelings about her sisters: Bella, with whom she was close and yet distinctly separated from, and Andromeda, with whom she'd never been as close, but who she still sometimes missed so badly it hurt.

That was Mother's fault. Mother had raised them to believe in blood purity. Father, Narcissa supposed, had too, but since she could not remember him she could safely put all blame on Mother's shoulders. Not that raising them with a healthy sense of hatred for anyone of mixed blood was the worst their mother had done. No, the worse was marrying Stepfather… or, perhaps more accurately, the worse was turning the other way when she realized what a monster he really was… Narcissa didn't understand it. She would do anything to keep Draco safe from harm. Absolutely anything. Because she was his mother. But her own mother refused to do anything…

What kind of mother would Bellatrix be, assuming she was, indeed, pregnant?

Would she sacrifice her child to the Dark Lord if need be? Or would she be as protective of her offspring as she'd tried to be to her two younger sisters?

War.

War was hell.

She was in hell.

And she just wanted it to be over.

All of these thoughts swirled around in her brain, sloshing back and forth as if written on tiny strips of parchment, stuffed in glass bottles, floating in a sea of red wine, until she finally succumbed to sleep.

Unfortunately, it was not Dreamless.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, this chapter and the next were really tough to write because so much of what happens is already covered from Bellatrix's perspective in  Loyal to the Dark Lord and I don't want to simply rehash it, but at the same time, some of what happens in that one is important so without it readers might miss things… thus, for the next one, I've written two versions. In one, the shorter version, I focus primarily on what happens outside Bella's room, so no Xmas Day convo between Bellatrix and Snape, very little between Bellatrix and Narcissa. In the other, I do cover the conversations but they're slightly abridged and with the perspective changed, which is okay but can't help being redundant for anyone who read that fic already, since there's very little new info to reveal. So... what to do, what to do?

Any strong opinions either way?

It will be posted on Monday, which is when I'll start updating on a daily basis again, so I have a little time to do some tweaking. Just not sure which is best (plus, frankly, I'm eager to jump ahead to New Year's Eve, which is one of my favorites that I've written thus far!).

Also, to GUEST, don't worry, I won't abandon this fic! If anything, it keeps getting longer and more involved. Originally it was only going to be 20 chapters, but I'm enjoying it too much. :)

Thx! **AL**


	20. Christmas Morning, 1997

**A/N:** I ended up fusing parts of  Loyal to the Dark Lord in with this chapter and the next, mostly in the form of dialogue, because otherwise anyone who reads _just_ this story would miss a few key things about Andromeda, Godric's Hollow, Snape/Bellatrix, etc. Because of that Christmas had to be split into two parts (morning/evening). If you already read the other fic you can kind of skim through those couple of conversations, but MOST of this chapter and the next are original/organic to THIS fic.

Thanks for the feedback in the reviews! I especially liked the suggestion about including Rodolphus' feelings, which is why I am now adding a little more of his POV into this one and upcoming chapters too.

- **AL**

 **PS:** I once ate pickled peanut butter cookies and they were surprisingly delicious.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty – Christmas Morning, 1997**

Though his mother had expressly told him to leave his aunt alone, Draco entered her bedroom Christmas morning to see how she was doing. He was shocked and scared by her appearance. If the Dark Lord could do this to His favorite, most loyal, and most faithful servant, Draco could only imagine what He would do to him if it was discovered that his own loyalty to their cause was waning.

Narcissa let herself into the bedroom expecting to find her sister alone. Though she was annoyed that Draco was already there, perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, all she said, was "Oh, good, you're awake," then asked her sister what she wanted to eat.

"I can't eat."

"You must," Narcissa insisted. "Draco, leave us."

He nodded, jumping up from the bed, seemingly relieved. When he was gone, Narcissa used her wand to lock the door.

"This is your punishment for insubordination?" asked Narcissa, settling into the spot her son had just vacated. "For a moment of impertinence He beat you to within an inch of your life?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Bellatrix, haughtily.

"You're right," said Narcissa. She had spent the last day and a half trying to understand and had come up blank. "I understand why we're on the side we're on," she said delicately, hoping her sister wouldn't realize even that was a borderline-lie, "But I don't understand why you worship Him, why you willingly give yourself to Him, why you…"

"Rodolphus left me."

"What?"

"Yesterday. I remember now. When Draco woke me, I was confused, but it's coming back." Bellatrix rubbed her temples.

"Why… why did he leave you? What did he… say? I… Lucius told me Rodolphus decided to bunk in with Rabastan, but I assumed… with you in your condition… I thought…"

"You assumed he simply didn't want to be around me on account of I'm broken?"

Narcissa's eyes widened with shock and guilt. "No! No, Bella, that's not what I…"

"I'm pregnant."

"I… you're what?"

Narcissa had already worked this out for herself, of course, but to hear her sister admit it after all these months of cover up and denial was its own surprise.

"I need to be alone, Cissy."

"Bella, please, if you need me…"

"I don't need anyone, Narcissa."

Narcissa's face flushed. She'd said the wrong thing.

"I'm here," she said softly, rising from the bed, hoping Bella would accept her help once she'd had time to process all she'd been through. "I'll return later."

Narcissa headed straight down to the kitchen, but when she'd almost reached it she heard a knock at the front door. She opened it to find Severus standing there.

"I assured the Dark Lord that I would check on her today," he explained. Narcissa nodded. Then she cast a furtive glance around them to ensure they were safely alone, and kissed him quickly on the lips before letting him into the Manor.

"I'll be in the kitchen. I'm going to make breakfast for myself and Draco. Lucius is no longer willing to eat my cooking. Do you want some eggs and sausage?"

"In the future," said Severus dryly, "You shouldn't ask someone if they want to eat your cooking directly after telling them someone else won't eat your cooking."

She tried to look annoyed, but she wasn't, not really.

"He said it because… well… I tried my hand at black pudding the other day…"

"Not a success?" asked Severus. They made their way down the hall to the kitchen.

"Draco swore it was really good but he only choked down a couple of bites. Lucius said it was so awful he thought perhaps I was trying to kill him without using magic. Rodolphus commended me for trying but said they'd served better black pudding in Azkaban. And Bellatrix suggested I take up a new hobby, like playing piano or monogramming napkins or fox-hunting."

Severus chuckled. He didn't understand how someone so adept at brewing complicated potions at an impressively young age could possibly grow up to be so completely useless in the kitchen, especially in spite of over a full year of practice, but he found it amusing… and endearing.

"I can make soup, though," said Narcissa. They'd reached the door to the kitchen. "Bella says I make decent soup. Maybe that's what I'll do for her later, when she's ready. She says its because I make it from a can, though, not from scratch."

"From a can?"

"You know, how Muggles do?"

"But you don't?"

Narcissa refused to meet his eye. Finally, she said, "I admit, sometimes I use a can for the broth, but that's all! I add other things in. I can bake now, too. My peanut butter cookies are delicious, though my sister prefers them soaked in pickle juice, and you said my shepherd's pie was edible, right?"

"Better than edible," he assured her. "It was good."

"Thank you." She stepped through the kitchen door and glanced around. Happy to see it empty, she gripped him by the front of the robes and pulled him into the room with her, kissing him. "I've been thinking about you non-stop since the other night. I need to be with you."

"The feeling is mutual."

"After you check on her, you'll come back down to see me?"

"I have to speak with the Dark Lord after I'm through with her, which may take some time, as we have several… several topics of discussion to cover… but I won't leave without speaking with you." This time, it was he who checked to be certain they were alone before going in for a kiss, which built in intensity at a rapid rate as their hands began to roam, until he forced himself to step away, mentally admonishing himself for even letting it get that far when the danger of getting caught was so great.

In the hall, on his way up to the room Bellatrix shared with her husband, Severus ran into Rabastan.

"Snape," said Rabastan, nodding hello.

"Lestrange," Severus replied, doing the same. "How is your brother handling your sister-in-law's… situation?"

Rabastan sneered. "He left her. About damn time, too. Wish he wasn't bunking with me now, but Lucius, the stingy bloke, said they couldn't spare an extra bedroom now that Wormtail will be coming back and the Rowles are staying here."

"The Rowles are staying here?" This was news to Severus.

"Temporarily. The Order raided their home, tried to take Thorfinn into custody. War crimes. He tortured some Muggle family for fun a few weeks back. Not sure what the Order's endgame was, though, since we control the Ministry and Azkaban. No matter. He and Euphemia both escaped."

"Fascinating," Severus said, but his tone said it was anything but. "So how are you two working out your one room?"

Rabastan scratched at his beard with long, unkempt nails. "Transfigured the desk into a second bed. Not ideal, but nothing I can do about it, least until the Rowles are gone."

"Why did he leave her?" asked Severus. He wanted to ask if it was because she was pregnant, but of course, that would be breaking the Unbreakable Vow.

"She's been screwing around on him for too long," explained Rabastan. "Other night was the last straw. Bitch is having a baby and she says it's not even his. Keep it quiet, though. He doesn't want anyone to know he married a whore." A loud grumbling emitted from the direction of Rabastan's stomach. "Sorry, headed down to the kitchen. I'm starving."

"Narcissa's making eggs," said Severus. Rabastan paused. His expression was suddenly one of revulsion, which would've made Severus laugh if he weren't so adept at self-control. Rabastan scratched his beard again, mulling over his options.

"Maybe I'll go out," Bella's brother-in-law said after a pause. "There's a place I like in Muggle London, near St. Mungos. They serve a full English breakfast all day… yeah… no offense to Narcissa, but that'll be much… safer. See you around, Snape."

Rabastan hurried down the hall. Severus shook his head, smiling. Poor Narcissa.

Once he'd reached the door to Bella's room, he knocked, and waited for him to unlock the door.

"Enter," she called in a still-raspy voice.

"Good morning," said Severus, smiling less-than-genuinely. "So lovely to see you."

Bellatrix hastened to pull up her comforter as if she could hide the state she was in. Obviously she had been expecting someone else to be at the door.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Snape?"

 _Oh, good,_ he thought with only a twinge of sarcasm. _She's feeling better._

"You're looking well, I see," he said, closing the door.

"Fuck you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Lestrange, for that very attractive offer, but I doubt I can afford you on a professor's salary."

"You couldn't afford a moment with me if you were the wealthiest man in the entire United Kingdom," she said almost as if it were a challenge. He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Tell me, what does the Dark Lord gift you in exchange for letting him do…" he indicated her face with a swirl of his right index finger, "This?"

Her smile dissipated. "You think I asked for this?"

"I think you've been _asking for it_ for at least twenty-five years," he said, even though, in truth, he thought what the Dark Lord had done to her was nothing short of absolutely deplorable, and he would be willing to duel to the death against any man who claimed to believe any woman could _ask for_ this sort of abuse.

His comment clearly ruffled Bellatrix, who immediately lit into him about being jealous, which, of course, he was not, but, as per the way their conversations usually went, this led to her doubting his loyalty, questioning him about Dumbledore, then professing that she knew herself to be the Dark Lord's favorite. The same old thing.

"You _are_ jealous of me," she insisted. "You all are. You all know that I am the _only_ one the Dark Lord desires."

Snape smiled cruelly. "How can you be so naïve, Bellatrix? You're not the _only_ one; you're the _most accessible_ one. You, of all people, should know that. You know that He's had others. You've had others _with_ Him, haven't you? I've heard rumors too… rumors about tortured Muggle women… rumors about willing young women seeking the Dark Mark… rumors about you and your own sister…"

This quieted her, at least for the moment, which should have given him the chance to share with her the treatments he'd brought with him, but she just couldn't quit.

"How's your girlfriend's son doing? Still on the run? Too bad she didn't live to see what a nuisance he'd turn out to be, eh?"

Severus fought an internal battle between keeping calm and killing her…

"What do you know of it?"

"The Dark Lord told me," she said, gloating. "He told me all about how you begged Him to spare Lily Potter, how He actually tried to do so but the stupid little bitch wouldn't step aside, so He had to kill her too." She put on a little pout, feigning sympathy. "Do you miss her? Did you _love_ her? Did you _love_ that Muggle-born filth, even after she married Potter? Hmm? You seem surprised by how much I know, but He told me all about that night after He came back, Severus. We do more in bed together than sleep, you know." Taunting him, it felt so good, she almost forgot about the scale of her injuries… for a moment.

"I'm aware that you do more than sleep," Severus said, hand clutched so tightly on his wand that his knuckles had gone white. "Somewhere between talking about me and flatbacking for the Dark Lord, you apparently have time left over for Him to rearrange your face. Personally, I like you better this way. It's a good look on you. As damaged on the outside as on the inside. As long as we're discussing people from our past, did they ever find the man who murdered your stepfather almost thirty years ago? You must have been heartbroken when he died. Lucius tells me the two of you were very… _close_."

"Go to hell, Snape." Her good eye watered and he wondered if she might even cry. "That was low, even for you."

"Your words were just as nasty," he pointed out, but he was furious with himself for having thrown that at her, because it _wasn't_ Lucius who had told him, it was Narcissa. And by revealing his awareness of their childhood abuse, he's just broken Narcissa's confidence, and for what? To hurt her sister in retaliation for goading him? Damn it.

Bellatrix kept going, of course, never one to let anyone else have the last word, but he needed to move on, to get out of there, so he changed the subject.

"How are your thighs?"

"I… Excuse me?"

"The bruising was significant," said Severus, his tone emotionless. "He left his fingerprints across your skin. In case you're wondering, and I know you are, I tended to you the other night, when he nearly killed you. You were passed out. You could barely breathe, your airway was obstructed by the swelling. I gave you this." He handed her the tonic in the green bottle. "You can take more if your throat is sore. I would've come yesterday but I had pressing matters at Hogwarts. Your sister said she'd look in on you. This…" He pulled out a round blue tub, not labeled, "Contains a healing salve of my own creation. It will minimize the effects of the bruising, cut in half your recovery time, and provide you with some semblance of pain relief, though the discoloration of your skin will not be affected so you'll still look as though you've been run over by the Knight Bus. Here."

She took both and placed them on the small table beside her bed.

"You're welcome," he said, aware that she didn't intend to thank him.

She didn't understand why he was helping her at all, not when he despised her as much as she did him, but as he explained, it was on the Dark Lord's order. Like everything else in their lives. Always on the Dark Lord's orders. Severus, knowing that the promises made during the Unbreakable Vow did not apply when conversing with her, now revealed that he knew of her "condition," since it was obvious she didn't remember having communicated with him the night he saved her. She wouldn't give him any further information about it, though, nor did she take the bait when he referenced that time she screwed Lucius in an alleyway (also on the Dark Lord's orders) in an attempt to demean her as she did so frequently to him.

"You said I've been 'flatbacking' for the Dark Lord," she said, curious. "What does that mean?"

"You haven't heard that term before? Think about it, Bellatrix. You'll figure it out if you put your mind to it… Out of sheer morbid curiosity, does He always leave you this way, or were the two of you trying something new?"

"You think I wanted this?" she asked, indicating the bruising on her neck and face.

"I have no idea what you're into, nor do I want to know, but I am aware that the two of you have left others in a similar state… albeit dead… so I assumed…"

"I was being punished for my insubordination at our meeting. He said I needed to learn a valuable lesson about my place."

"And did you learn it?"

"Fuck off. You can leave."

Severus stood but did not make his way toward the door. "Why do you care that I know you didn't want this? In case you think I'm a complete dunderhead, let me assure you that I knew upon first sight of you that you couldn't have. I wasn't certain I could save you, and honestly, I don't know that I would have worked so hard to do so had the Dark Lord not demanded it himself. I've seen our fellow Death Eaters rape countless women since the start of the First War but never once have I seen one left in the deplorable condition in which I found you."

"He didn't rape me," she protested meekly.

"Don't be stupid. You said yourself you didn't ask for this." Suddenly, Severus found himself consumed by the same embittered protectiveness toward her he'd felt toward Narcissa when she was defending her husband after he'd hit her with his cane and bruised her hand. No matter how Severus felt about Bellatrix, he couldn't stand it when women defended the men who abused them. He couldn't stand it when his mother did it, and he couldn't stand it when Narcissa did it, and he couldn't stand it now, when the subject of fifteen years' worth of personal loathing was doing it. Bella, for her part, continued to insist it was nothing, a misunderstanding perhaps, that the Dark Lord got carried away, as the fury inside Severus grew.

"He didn't want me to die," she said, haughtily tossing her wild black hair. "He needs me."

Severus grabbed Bellatrix by the upper arms. More roughly than he meant to, he shook her.

"You say it as if it means something. As if it means He _cares_ for you. He doesn't _care_ for you; He _uses_ you. You're good at what you do – on a battlefield and, also apparently, in a bedroom – and He doesn't wish to lose that. But I've never in my life seen a woman so broken in the way you were after He was finished with you the other night. And you know some of the more disturbing things I've seen." He didn't bother pointing out that she had _done_ some of the more disturbing things he'd seen.

"Bellatrix Lestrange, if you think that's love, or affection, or anything other than a mix of convenience and an innate need to assert His dominance, you're far stupider than I'd previously thought you were, and that's saying something."

He shoved her backwards onto the bed and turned so fast his cloak spun out, making him look like an overgrown bat about to be enveloped by his own wings. He was almost to the door when, in a small, sad, uncharacteristically weak voice, she called him back.

"Snape!"

He paused, then took another step, set to ignore her.

"Stop!" She demanded. "Tell me what I looked like! I need to know."

He turned, sneering. "You know how you look now?"

She nodded.

"Well, you looked worse." He reached for the doorknob.

"I don't remember what happened," she admitted. "I don't really remember yesterday. I don't remember anything about leaving His chambers and returning to my room. I barely remember how our fight began and I certainly don't remember being… being _raped_ , if that's what happened. Tell me, Severus. Tell me what I looked like when you found me."

He paused. He sighed. He shook his head. Then, almost as if defeated, he returned to the bed and sat down.

"You really want to know? Fine."

So he told her. He told her everything. How she'd looked, how he'd cleaned her up, how he'd worked to save her, how, at first, he wasn't certain he could, how he'd carried her back to her bedroom and changed her…

"Where's my bra?" she interjected.

"I never saw it," he answered honestly.

"So you saw me…?"

"Topless?" He smirked. "Yes… trust me when I say it was no more pleasurable for me than it would have been for you."

"Fuck off," she snapped, arrogantly adding, "I'll have you know I've got a fantastic figure. You were _lucky_ to see me."

"Fantastic figure? You're getting fat," he replied. "How long do you think you can hide this mess?"

"You mean my pregnancy?"

"No, I mean your terrible personality. Of course I mean your pregnancy."

She shrugged. "Indefinitely."

He scoffed but refrained from comment, instead completing for her the picture of what happened that night. "Once you were settled, I watched you sleep for about an hour, in case you relapsed. I did not wish for you to die in your sleep, namely because I do not wish to be killed by the Dark Lord for my inability to keep you alive as demanded…"

He continued to lay it out for her all very coolly, in his usual unaffected way, hoping she wouldn't realize how deeply the events of that evening had actually impacted him. Not a moment too soon, he stood to leave.

"Two more questions," she requested, holding up two fingers.

"Ask them quickly. I haven't got all day to tend to you."

She glared at him threateningly, though her attempt to be intimidating was largely ineffective considering her battered appearance.

"First, where was my husband? If it was the middle of the night, he should have been in bed."

"He _was_ in bed," answered Severus, with a hint of malice. "Just not yours."

"Who is she?"

"Is that your second question? Because I won't answer a third."

"No. It's about the baby. You aren't going to tell anyone, are you?"

Severus flashed her a taunting, nasty little smile, and twirled his wand in his hand.

"What if I did?"

"The Dark Lord would be angry. Very, very angry. It would be a grave mistake to cross Him on this."

"You're right," agreed Snape. He informed her that the Dark Lord had already made this much clear, even revealing that he'd made the Unbreakable Vow.

"Who did it? Who presided over the Unbreakable Vow?"

Severus shook his head. He was finished. He'd checked on her as requested, he'd given her the potion and the salve, he'd done all the Dark Lord demanded, and now he was finished.

"You asked two questions and I answered two questions. If you wish to garner more information, ask your lover."

She closed her good eye, lip trembling, and suddenly she looked so small and weak and sad – as small and weak and sad as her voice had sounded when she'd called him back – which caused a knot to form in the pit of his stomach. If he were a better man, or if she weren't certifiably psychotic (not to mention the sister of his… whatever Narcissa was), he would want to go to Bellatrix, to hold her, to comfort her, to convince her to stop serving the Dark Lord, or, at the very least, to stop loving this man who abused her so.

Instead, Severus moved to the door, placed his hand on the knob, and prepared to exit. But as much as he wanted out of that room, the sight of her like this stopped him from departing. He took a deep breath. She opened her eye again, wondering why he hadn't gone.

"Your husband left you," Severus said matter-of-factly.

"I'm aware."

"Are you aware that he's sharing a bedroom with his brother now? They transfigured a desk into a second bed. I'm sure he'd prefer to stay with his mistress, but her husband surely wouldn't like that."

"She's married, this woman?"

"Tut, tut. Didn't I just tell you I'd answer no more questions?"

She glared at him, her good eye full of pure abhorrence, which actually made him feel better. That's how she was supposed to look at him. That's how they always looked at each other. Even when he'd fucked her on the couch at his home on Spinner's End when she'd just broken free from Azkaban, even after they'd fought, when he pinned her wrist down and kissed the bloodied cut his hex had left across her chest, even then, that's how they'd looked at each other. That's why he couldn't leave the room. He needed to know they were back to normal. On even ground.

In her injured state, she failed to block her mind, and he was well-aware that she was fantasizing about hitting him with the Curciatus Curse. He smiled. Equals again.

Now to regain the upper hand.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "And I wouldn't if I were you. When I've gone, use the salve, drink the potion. Do not let your pride get the better of you. I will check on you again in a few days. Try not to die in the interim."

"I'll do my very best," she promised sarcastically.

"Good. Happy Christmas."

Now, he could leave.

Meanwhile, down in the kitchen, Narcissa and Draco ate eggs and baked beans and sausage and tried to force themselves to engage in normal conversation, though both their minds were elsewhere.

"How's your little girlfriend?" asked Narcissa, hoping he wouldn't realize how much she loathed the girl.

"You don't care," said Draco, stabbing a single bean with his fork. "You've never liked Pansy."

So much for hiding her loathing.

"What's most important is that _you_ like her," Narcissa insisted, even though, frankly, she didn't think that was the most important at all. In a rush, under her breath, Narcissa added, "Just don't get her pregnant."

"What?" asked Draco, mouth full of eggs. "You said something?"

"Nothing, dear," said Narcissa. "More pumpkin juice?"

Draco looked her over with suspicion, but handed her his glass, which she refilled.

"You were married by my age, Mother."

"Yes," said Narcissa, topping off her own glass of pumpkin juice. "So? Oh, Draco, darling, _please_ don't tell me you're thinking of marrying this girl!"

"No!" He couldn't imagine being married to pug-faced Pansy Parkinson, listening to her squeal and whine and generally be annoying all the time. Imagine the obnoxious, pug-faced children they'd produce. They'd probably have his white-blond hair and her too-flat nose. No, thank you. He was as vain as his mother, which meant he was far too vain to risk having ugly offspring.

"I'm curious though, Mother. Why did you get married so young? Why didn't you finish your final year at Hogwarts? When I asked Father, he said you'd been dating for years so it seemed like the right thing to do, but why didn't you wait until the summer?"

To lie, or not to lie? That was the question.

To lie.

That was the answer.

"I was six months away from taking my N.E.W.T.s and I knew I wouldn't… I wasn't going to do well, except perhaps in Potions, though I was also doing alright in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms. I was highly adept in History of Magic – I have a good memory – but there's no N.E.W.T. exam for that so it hardly mattered. Transfiguration and Astronomy were always difficult for me… I was intimidated Professor McGonagall, to be honest, so I struggled in her class, and I frequently mixed up constellations and the names of stars, which drove Professor Copernicus batty. That's who had the job before what's-her-name."

"Sinistra." Draco took Astronomy Third year hoping for a class he could coast through, but gave it up in Fourth because he found it more dull than expected, plus the professor was too strict, and that know-it-all Mudblood Hermione Granger was her favorite pupil. (Had he known she was planning to drop the course too, he may have reconsidered.)

"Professor Copernicus would say things like, 'How is it possible you can't remember that _this_ is Andromeda? _Your own sister_ is named Andromeda! It isn't that hard!' And then I'd cry because it _was_ hard… Anyway, school didn't matter to me, not in the long run, because it had always been impressed upon me, since I was very little, that my primary goal in life should be to marry well. Mother… my mother, your grandmother… she didn't want me to return for Seventh year at all. She thought it was a waste of time for her youngest and prettiest daughter – her words, not mine. All through the summer after Sixth she made me practice spells and charms she thought would come in handy when I was a wife and gave me lessons on decorum and grace and how to be an adequate hostess. She thought it utterly nonsensical for me to study anything else. So when your father asked me to marry him over Christmas break… there didn't seem to be much reason to wait."

"So you weren't pregnant?"

Narcissa felt all the blood drain from her face. Afraid that her sister had taught Draco Legillimency in addition to Occlumency, she immediately began to recite in her head, _"Clear your mind. Clear your mind."_ Blue ocean, brick wall, blank beyond that.

"…Mother?"

"Why would you think I was pregnant?" she snapped, more harshly than she'd meant to. He seemed taken aback.

"Sorry! I didn't mean… it's just…" He tried to ignore the fact that his mother was now twirling her hair, a sure sign of nervousness, and slightly changed the subject. "I think Auntie is pregnant."

"Oh…" The color returned to Narcissa's cheeks, but she kept twirling. "Yes, well. Yes, I think she is."

"Why is Uncle Rodolphus so angry with her, then?"

"I don't know, dear, but I…" said Narcissa. She was cut off by the sound of the kitchen door slamming against the wall as someone forced it open.

"He's angry because it's none of your damn business, boy," shouted Rodolphus, who was red-faced and furious. Narcissa swiveled around in her chair, pointing her wand at her brother-in-law.

"Don't yell at my son!"

"It's fine, Mother." Draco wiped his mouth with his napkin, then set it on top of what was left of the baked beans on his plate. The eggs and sausage were gone. "You did well with this meal. I think you're improving."

"Thank you," she said, patting his hand. Ignoring them, Rodolphus made his way to the stove to pour himself a mug of coffee. Draco kissed her cheek and exited.

Once Draco was safely down the hall, Narcissa was set to light into Rodolphus about his treatment of Draco, but Lucius entered the kitchen, distracting her, and decimating the tension in the air.

"Hello, beautiful," said Lucius. He kissed her on the forehead, clearly in a good mood, though she didn't know exactly why.

"Morning, sunshine," growled Rodolphus.

Lucius let out a hearty laugh. "I wasn't talking to you, I was addressing my lovely wife."

"I made eggs and sausage and beans," she said, smiling at his silly quip. He'd seemed so dark and different post-Azkaban. It was nice to see him the way he once was, the way he rarely behaved in front of others. "Plus there's pumpkin juice."

"We used to use house elves for this," he reminded her. "Back before you decided you wanted to start doing everything yourself."

"It gives me something to do," she said softly. "I need a hobby to occupy my time."

Lucius kissed her on the nose this time, before heading to the stove.

"Is it palatable?" he asked Rodolphus, who was adding milk to his coffee. Lucius poked at a sausage with the tip of his wand.

"I didn't try it," said Rodolphus gruffly, stirring. "I'm still recovering from that black pudding."

"You can choke on a bezoar and die, both of you," snapped Narcissa. A shuffling behind her made her turn. It was Severus, entering the kitchen. She smiled at him as suggestively as she dared, considering the close proximity to her husband. "Severus will eat it, won't you?"

He froze.

Misunderstanding his friend's hesitation, Lucius laughed and waved his friend further into the room.

"Don't worry, mate. I won't allow her to subject you to such torture; you're a guest in our home."

"Wish _I_ were a guest," said Rodolphus, eyeing the eggs with suspicion.

"If you're hungry," added Lucius, "The house elves can fix you something."

"I'm not hungry," said Severus, his eyes darting from Lucius to Narcissa and back again. "And, for what it's worth, a bezoar would save a dying man, not kill him."

"No, a bezoar would only save a person who's been _poisoned,"_ she argued. "But shove a large enough stone from the belly of a goat down the unwilling throat of a man who has _not_ been poisoned, and I can almost guarantee he'll choke on it."

"Touché," said Severus. "I stand corrected."

Forgoing the eggs, Rodolphus stabbed a sausage with a fork and took a bite, still standing up against the counter. "Not bad, actually."

Lucius chuckled, smiling condescendingly at his wife. "Don't encourage her, Rodolphus. I don't trust her not to give clothes to our remaining house elves in an attempt to ensure she's the only cook permitted inside the walls of Malfoy Manor, which would surely end up being the end of the rest of us." He chuckled again, kissed her on the top of the head, and took a swig of her pumpkin juice. "You're lucky you're not married, Severus. Wives can be such silly nuisances."

In response to this, Narcissa's gray eyes flashed dangerously. "I'm going out," she announced. "New Year's Eve. I trust that won't be an issue for you, my darling husband, assuming you'll be otherwise occupied?"

Lucius regarded her quizzically, confused both because of her sudden declaration and because he had no idea why she seemed upset with him. He was only teasing her, after all. Still, he answered honestly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I _do_ have plans that night, most unfortunately, but where exactly do you think _you're_ going? And with whom?"

"I'm going _out._ I need to get out of this Death Eater hotel for the evening. Maybe I'll head to a pub, maybe to a nice restaurant, maybe I'll go get pissed off overpriced red wine… maybe I'll go out with Severus."

Lucius looked her over, looked over his friend, then looked to Rodolphus. Lucius and Rodolphus cracked up laughing at once. (Severus did not. He was thinking about throttling her, despite how strongly he felt against abusing women.)

Rodolphus coughed on a bite of sausage while Lucius wiped a tear from his eye. They struggled to compose themselves.

"Okay, dear. You have my permission and my blessing," Lucius said once he'd stop guffawing. He was clearly humoring her. "You'll go out, split a bottle of red with Severus, get a headache like you always do, and be in bed before midnight."

"That's the plan," she said. "We'll go out, split a bottle of red, and be in bed before midnight." Lucius had his back to her and Rodolphus was stabbing another sausage, so she felt safe enough to wink at Severus, who could only stare back at her, unmoving, open-mouthed.

"Don't pay Narcissa any mind," said Lucius, directing this toward Severus. "She's only bitter because she thinks I spend too much time away from home. She doesn't understand how important it is that we continue to serve the Dark Lord in any way He requests, and currently, for me, that means training our new, young recruits. You keep cooking, Narcissa." Lucius, coffee in hand, moved back to her side, kissed her temple, and chuckled yet again. "You're right; it's good for you to have a hobby to occupy your time. Come, Rodolphus. We have to discuss yesterday's events - Potter escaped the Dark Lord again at Godric's Hollow. Severus already knows, but you, Draco, and Rabastan need the update…"

Rodolphus shoved the rest of the sausage in his mouth and grunted. He took his coffee with him. Lucius moved to follow, but paused to address Severus.

"Don't let my wife force you into eating her food," Lucius said, clapping his old friend on the shoulder as he passed. "I know you're too polite to tell her no."

Once the two men were safely out of earshot, Severus shut the kitchen door and rounded on Narcissa.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Are you really too polite to tell me no, Severus?" she asked, her voice soft, sensual. She stood, smiling, and stepped close to him. "What if I asked you to take me, right now, right here? Would you be too polite to tell me no?" She did not make eye contact, nor did she touch him, which was good, because if she'd done either he might have taken her up on the offer.

"Are you insane?! Have you switched brains with your sister?"

She pressed the long, silver-painted nail of her index finger against his Adam's apple, then ran it slowly down to his waist as she spoke. "Now there's no reason you shouldn't take me out for New Year's. We've even got my husband's permission, his blessing. The only question is, whose bed should we find ourselves in before midnight?"

Though he wanted to be annoyed, Severus couldn't fight away the grin creeping across his lips. "You're incorrigible, woman."

She slipped her arms around his waist and nipped lightly at his neck.

"It's a week away," she whispered. "Can you wait that long?"

"As it so happens, I already made plans for New Year's, Narcissa."

She released him and stepped back, hurt evident on her face. "You did?"

"Yes. I am going to see a play."

"You are?"

"Yes. And you are coming to see it with me. I already purchased tickets. It starts at eight. But it'll run until about eleven, so I doubt we'll have time to drink enough to get drunk _and_ fall into bed before twelve."

She breathed a sigh of relief as her smile returned.

"I've never been to a play."

"You'll like this one, I hope. It's based on a book by Agatha Christie. This traveling theatre company specializes in her work. They do a production of one of her best plays every December 31st, to ring in the New Year. You remember Agatha Christie is…?"

"The Muggle mystery author your grandmother liked so much, the one whose work you read once, every Christmas. I remember. I have an impeccable memory."

"I cannot continue to keep the Dark Lord waiting." Severus tilted her chin up, the same way he had when searching through her mind the other night, but this time he kissed her. "I do, however, have more to tell you, thus I'll return later."

"Please do," she murmured, as he retreated from the room. She was longing to kiss him again, longing to give herself to him, already trembling with excitement over their upcoming New Year's date. _Goodness_ , she thought, as it fully hit her. They were going out, to a play, on a holiday… _it was a date._ Was he thinking of it like a date? She hadn't been on a date in over 25 years. Evenings out with her husband didn't count. Once they were married, they ceased to date, which Bella told her was a problem.

"I don't even terribly enjoy spending time with my husband, and yet we still date," Bella had told her, back when Narciss was pregnant for Draco and afraid her marriage was collapsing.

"You should try it, Cissy. I get dressed up, he shaves, we part ways a couple of hours before and then meet somewhere we haven't been before, or maybe at a restaurant we like, and then, afterward, we go home and mess around. It's fun. Sometimes we don't even wait until we get home. That's more fun. We had sex on the Muggle Underground once. Of course, in general, my husband's not my first choice for a fuck, but you work with what you're given."

Narcissa had been appalled. "On the Muggle Underground? In public? Bella!"

"Quit being so scandalized, you adorable prude. Sex is so much more exciting in public," Bella had assured her, grinning wickedly. "It's like daytime Muggle torture. There's always the thrilling chance you'll get caught."

That didn't sound exciting to Narcissa. It sounded terrifying. At that point, in early 1980, she'd been married for eight years, with Lucius for twelve, and had had sex in five places: her bed in the room she shared with her sisters at Mother's house (secretly, while Mother was out), her husband's bed at Malfoy Manor (which they shared until his parents died, then they moved into the Master bedroom), the bed in the expensive hotel in the small wizarding enclave in Dubai where they'd spent their honeymoon (the week she lost their first baby), against the wall and on the hard stone floor of the Hogwarts astronomy tower (which was done out of necessity for lack of another location, not for excitement enhancement) and in the Forbidden Forest on her fifteenth birthday (which was as close to public as she'd ever want to get).

Narcissa was lost in thought when a _pop!_ took her by surprise. It was one of the house elves, who bowed low to the floor upon realizing her Mistress was present.

"Missus Malfoy, Mistress, Ma'am, wishes the kitchen cleaned, yes?"

"Yes," said Narcissa. She took her wand off the table and slipped it up her sleeve. "Thank you."

"Missus Malfoy is most welcome, Mistress, Ma'am!" squeaked the house elf, wide-eyed. She had never before been thanked by any member of the Malfoy family. Or any member of any family, for that matter. Certainly never by the Dark Lord, the Lestranges, the Rowles, or Wormtail, and those were all the people she knew.

Narcissa blinked back an eye-roll. She hadn't meant to make the ugly pipsqueak so happy, the words had just come out automatically (was having an affair making her more polite?).

But what the hell. It was Christmas.

"You're a good little house elf," Narcissa said, patting its tiny head. "What is your name?"

They'd gotten this one a few years ago, after Dobby's unfortunate departure. She was still young. Eager to please. It was pathetic, but at least she did a good job at her job. They didn't have to worry about her sneaking away or disobeying direct orders.

"Squeakers, Missus Malfoy, Mistress, Ma'am!" The house elf hopped from one foot to the other, its tiny hands clasped in front of it, grinning broadly. It was a girl, Narcissa was reasonably certain, but it could be hard to tell with house elves, especially young ones like this.

"Happy Christmas, Squeakers," Narcissa said. She left the room. From the hall, she could hear the delighted undersized house elf singing to herself with (high-pitched) joy.

"We three elves of Orient are, bearing gifts we traverse afar…"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Narcissa muttered, using a phrase relatively recently added to her regular vernacular, though she wasn't sure whether she could blame it on her sister or her lover, since both used it. She was glad her husband hadn't seen that ridiculous Squeakers exchange. He already thought she was forgetting her place, turning into the wrong sort of house wife. She could only imagine how he'd react to catching her patting the elf's head.

Narcissa went up to her room to take a long, hot shower, then put on a different dress, a nicer one, in respect of the holiday. While she fixed her hair and makeup, she wondered whether she should have the house elves prepare a big meal for that afternoon, since it was Christmas, or whether they should skip it altogether, considering everything that had happened in the last couple of days.

She then realized she'd wished Happy Christmas to the damn house elf, but had neglected to do so to her own son that morning. She would have to bring his presents to his room, since he rarely left it these days and they hadn't bothered with a tree this year.

She'd had sex with Lucius early that morning, so she figured that could be his gift (perhaps it accounted for his good mood?) though she couldn't help wondering where hers was. Usually, when he was having an affair, he bought her _more_ presents, better ones, expensive ones, and as much as she's always hated knowing what he was doing behind her back, she rather looked forward to the trinkets he'd bestow her, all given as much to assuage his guilty conscious as to keep her happy.

This year, she was hoping for jewelry. Lucius had great taste in jewelry. And if it was something particularly pretty, maybe earrings or a bracelet with diamonds or rubies or emeralds (her favorite stones) she could wear it on New Year's out with Severus.

Narcissa checked herself over in the mirror. She needed makeup, and maybe something to do with her hair. She tried gathering it into a braid, but didn't like that it made her look like a school teacher, then tying it loosely in a low side ponytail with a ribbon, but that look hadn't worked on her since she was seventeen, so she simply brushed it until it shined and left it down, free. She smiled at her reflection. The few years had been rough on both her appearance and her psyche, especially since turning forty (ugh, forty!), going gray (grayer by the day, it seemed) and then having to accept that she was the mother of an adult (but still _her baby_ ) son.

She was now three months away from forty-three, but if she was being honest, she wasn't bad looking. Sure, there were lines by her eyes that hadn't been there before, and she was having to color her hair more often, even though the dark roots were easier to maintain than the blonde, and she didn't find keeping her figure quite as easy as she had since she'd finally managed to drop off the last of the baby weight she'd gained with Draco many years ago, but she couldn't be too hard on the eyes, right?

Severus certainly seemed to think she was attractive enough.

Didn't he?

Or was she merely available?

"Don't do this again," she scolded herself aloud.

That morning, before sunrise, when she'd been with Lucius, he'd said something that surprised her:

"You're as beautiful today as you were the day I married you."

Two years ago, maybe even six months ago, those words would have thrilled her, but this morning, they only served to make her feel confused. If they were true, why had he been ignoring her since September?

Unless there was something else wrong with their marriage. Maybe his lack of interest wasn't wrapped up in her looks. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with her appearance at all.

That was a novel possibility.

The first time he'd had an affair (the first time she knew about, anyway) she'd been sure her looks were a significant portion of the reason. She was depressed and miserable and overweight. She rarely wore makeup or fixed her hair, her eyes were permanently swollen from crying, her chest wasn't as pert as it had been pre-motherhood, and she was pale a way that made her look sick, as Mother liked to let her know every time she visited.

"You look awful, Narcissa. Your skin's so white, you look sick. And you're fat. He's going to hop into bed with another woman if you don't fix yourself up."

"Yes, Mother," Narcissa would say, ever the most obedient Black daughter.

But she couldn't fix herself. She couldn't fix the way she felt.

And, just as Mother predicted, he started hopping into bed with other women, most notably Endora Selwyn.

Endora Selwyn, the attempted homewrecker. A woman who decided when Draco was just under two years old to visit Narcissa at Malfoy Manor while Lucius was out, to inform her of their affair, to reveal that they were in love, and to insist that he'd sworn to leave his wife and son for her. To add insult to injury (as Narcissa viewed it) Endora Selwyn later committed suicide, revealing in the note found beside her body that she'd done so when he'd refused to abandon his family "as promised," which made their private business public, fodder for the now-defunct Daily Prophet Gossip Column, the cherry atop of a sundae of complete embarrassment.

Lucius hadn't wanted anything to do with her since September, and suddenly, that morning, he couldn't keep his hands off her.

"I love you," he'd said, over and over. "I love that you're mine."

But she wasn't his. Not in her heart. Not anymore.

And she felt terrible about it.

Seated in front of her vanity, staring at herself in the mirror, suddenly Narcissa felt that every line on her face was deeper than it had been moments ago. Every gray hair was highlighted more brightly. Ever flaw and imperfection… She'd never be as pretty as she'd once been.

Did Lucius really think she was still beautiful?

Did Severus think she was anything more than a convenience?

Narcissa was overwhelmed by confusion and guilt and self-doubt.

She wanted to cry.

She also wanted a drink.

Was it too early to drink?

Probably.

But perhaps a _little_ wine wouldn't hurt…


	21. Christmas Afternoon & Evening, 1997

**A/N:** The first 3500ish words of this chapter cover Bella and Narcissa's convo in Loyal to the Dark Lord with minor additions/insights that weren't in that one because now we are looking at it through Narcissa's perspective. If you don't want to see that rehashed just skip about halfway down the chapter and read the last 3500ish words. And then stay tuned for the next chapter, which is about New Year's Eve (and includes nothing ever seen before… yay!). Like I already stated, the New Year's Eve chapter is one of my faves. This is because it includes… their first official date! Hope you'll like it too. Thx! **AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-one – Christmas Afternoon & Evening, 1997**

She didn't care what Bella would say – it was past lunchtime and she needed to eat, if not for her own health than for that of the baby. Thus Narcissa, who was feeling a bit tipsy from the half bottle of wine she'd consumed between breakfast and lunch, heated some soup (okay, from a can) and threw together a small fruit salad on the side. She arranged the plate and bowl on a tray and headed back to her sister's room, thinking she really should have had Squeakers the house elf do this instead.

But Bella still didn't want to eat.

"Who is she?" asked Bellatrix, pulling herself into a seated position and picking up (but not eating) a grape. "The woman who's having an affair with my husband. Do you know?"

"I… what makes you think he's having an affair?" Narcissa twirled her hair, a habit she'd been fighting for months but found herself picking up again.

"Snape told me. We had quite the illuminating chat."

Narcissa blanched. "I… He… what did he tell you?"

"Weren't you listening? He told me my husband is having an affair! Do you know who he's messing around with? Does Lucius?"

"Does Lucius know who your husband has been sleeping with?"

"Dammit, Cissy, give me an answer! Do you know who my husband's screwing or not?"

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "Does Rodolphus know he's going to be a father?"

"He's not."

"He's… not?"

Bellatrix huffed. "The hell is wrong with you today, Cissy? Stammering and repeating back everything I say? You're hiding something. I can always tell. Look at me."

Narcissa shifted her gaze to the far wall. "I won't look at you."

"Because you know I can always tell."

"Because you'll rifle through my thoughts. You know I'm no good at Occlumency."

 _Getting better, though,_ Narcissa didn't add.

"What are you afraid I'll see, little sister?" Bella pulled her thick hair into a ponytail and regarded Narcissa carefully.

"Noth… nothing."

"You lie. Look at me."

Despite her better judgment, Narcissa made eye contact with Bellatrix, who, of course, then penetrated her mind, which was a rather unpleasant feeling.

"You're trying to force me out," Bellatrix said, sounding amused. "There _is_ something in here you don't want me to see."

Narcissa knew she couldn't keep her sister at bay with a brick wall and a blue ocean for long, so she pushed a memory to the forefront of her mind instead, knowing full well it would distract Bellatrix and keep her from finding out anything more personal.

 _"_ _You…" hissed the Dark Lord, beckoning to Narcissa, who stood frozen in the doorway to his chambers, "You will act as Bonder as Severus makes the Unbreakable Vow."_

 _"_ _I've never done this before," whispered Narcissa, who wanted nothing to do with whatever promise Severus Snape was about to make to the Dark Lord._

 _The Dark Lord gave a curt nod, as if acknowledging her worry, but then said, "If you value the life of your sister, you'll manage."_

 _For the briefest moment, Narcissa thought He meant Andromeda. Her stomach churned. She looked to Severus, but before she could ask any questions, he, presumably having read her mind, answered._

 _"_ _Bellatrix is not well, but she should live."_

Bellatrix watched the whole thing, the entire Unbreakable Vow, all the way up through when Narcissa grabbed Severus' arm and confronted him in the hall.

 _"_ _You worry too much, Narcissa."_

 _"_ _I worry about my family," she replied, stepping closer to him. "I worry about everyone I care about. I'm not built for war. I'm not strong enough."_

 _"_ _I think you're stronger than you give yourself credit for." Now he stepped closer. They were separated by mere inches._

 _"_ _She's my sister. If the Dark Lord knew…"_

 _"_ _Sometimes you surprise me," he interjected, leaning in toward her, his hand making its way to her waist, drawing her in. "I wouldn't have thought…"_

"No!" Narcissa hadn't meant to say it aloud, but she couldn't let Bellatrix see another moment. Neither Severus nor the Occlumency book taught her how to end a memory someone else was in the process of viewing.

"What the bloody hell was that?" asked Bellatrix. "Are you sleeping with Snape? What secrets are you sharing with him?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Narcissa, refusing to make further eye contact. "Will the Vow be affected, since you'd seen into my thoughts?"

"No. Severus has been sworn to secrecy, you haven't, nor have I."

"I didn't know what they were referring to, when they spoke of your condition. I'm still not certain. They could mean… this…" Narcissa gently touched the bruising on Bellatrix's wrist, "Or that." She indicated her sister's slightly protruding midsection.

"Does it matter? Now you know I'm pregnant, and Severus does, and Rodolphus does, and the Dark Lord does too, and I'd say that's quite enough people, wouldn't you?" Bellatrix conveniently left out the name of the first person to whom she'd revealed her pregnancy – sister Andromeda, cast out of the family for marrying a Muggle-born.

"I... yes."

"Are you sleeping with Snape?"

"No."

"Are you sleeping with Snape?"

"I'm married."

Bellatrix took Narcissa face in her hands, forcing her to make eye contact, intending to see for herself. "Are you sleeping with Snape?"

"I told you I'm not!" Narcissa stood, turning her back to her sister, arms folded defensively across her chest. _Clear your mind._ "I'm married."

"Does it matter? Marriage? It's a contractual agreement, not a declaration of love."

"It is both," argued Narcissa, spinning around to face her sister again. "I swore to respect and honor and obey my husband when we were wed, but I also loved him then and love him now."

"You know that he cheats on you?"

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do. I can tell that you do. It's alright if you cheat on him too."

Narcissa bristled. "Your marriage of convenience is nothing like mine. I love my husband and he loves me. I married him because I loved him, not simply because of his last name and parentage and bloodline."

Bellatrix grinned. "Don't pretend his bloodline had nothing to do with it. Mother nearly died of delight when you said you were marrying a Malfoy. She kept prattling on, 'Oh, if only your father were alive to see this!' Remember?"

"I remember her saying it. I don't remember our father. Do you?"

"Of course I do. Don't change the subject. Come back, sit by me." She put on a pout, which looked even more pathetic with her busted lip. "Please? I'm lonely."

Narcissa crawled up next to her sister on the other side of the bed and made herself comfortable. She let Bellatrix place her head in her lap and stroked Bella's hair, knowing well the comforting feeling of long nails working their way through her own hair from her temple, above her ear, and to the base of her spine. With a flick of her wrist, Bellatrix vanished the tie holding her ponytail in place, freeing wild dark curls.

"Everything hurts, Cissy," whined Bellatrix, silently cursing the tears building up in her eyes. "He punished me for hours and it still hurts."

"I'm sorry, Bella."

"Has Lucius ever hurt you, Cissy? Physically, I mean. Has he ever… has he ever raped you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Narcissa, her voice soothing and maternal. "He can't possibly, he's my husband." She wanted to talk about something else, anything else, but couldn't think of a way to end the conversation, which only got worse from there.

"I know he's your husband, but has he… ever _tried_ … to rape you?"

"Your question doesn't make sense, Bella," said Narcissa. "He can't _rape_ me, we're married."

"That doesn't mean he couldn't force himself on you if he wanted to."

"He wouldn't have to. If he wants me, I'm available to him. That's how marriage works." That's how it worked that very morning, anyway. Lucius, for the first time in months, desired the physical affection of his wife, and she gave him what he needed, out of a sense of duty, even though it had very deeply hurt her to hear his declarations of love breathed into her ear while he was on top of her, mostly because she assumed every single one was a lie. She'd gone so long without being touched and gone even longer without feeling loved. Ignored by Severus, rejected by Lucius, alone. She rubbed her temples. Her head hurt. She shouldn't have had all that wine. Not at ten-thirty in the morning.

Bellatrix was staring at her, as if awaiting an admission that wouldn't be forthcoming.

"Why are you asking?" Narcissa's voice shook. "Did Rodolphus…?"

"No."

"Oh." Narcissa let out a breath of relief. "That's good."

"Sometimes you're so dense, little sister." Bellatrix closed her good eye, from which tears were now streaming down across the top of her cheek and over the bridge of her nose, then dripping onto Cissy's lap.

"I don't understand, Bella. Tell me."

"Not Rodolphus," she said. "I don't… I don't quite remember. But the Dark Lord, He was very angry, and Severus Snape… Snape… he had to help me, afterward he had to fix me up, and he said… he told me…"

"Did the Dark Lord rape you?" Narcissa immediately ceased her actions with her sister's hair, looking horrified. Severus had not told her this. Severus had said her sister had been punished. She could see that her sister had been beaten. But raped? Surely, if that were the case, Severus would have told her!

Wouldn't he?

Bellatrix sat up.

"I hurt so much, Cissy," she said, tears flowing even more freely now. "I don't understand! I would have… I would… Like you said, with your marriage… if He'd wanted to, I would have… I… He… if He did, He didn't need to!"

"Oh, Bella," Narcissa whispered, unwilling to fully process what she was hearing.

"Has he ever hurt you?" asked Bellatrix, 'he' meaning Lucius. "On purpose, out of anger? Hit you or… or pulled your hair… or… anything?"

"You live here, Bellatrix. Don't you think you'd have noticed if my husband was abusing me?" Without realizing she was doing it, Narcissa caressed her right hand with her left, in the exact spot Lucius' cane had left a large bruise several months ago. "Let's talk about something else."

"Fine." Bellatrix sighed, closing her good eye for so long Narcissa thought perhaps she'd fallen asleep. "Do you ever think about Andromeda?"

Narcissa blinked, puzzled. They hadn't spoken of Andromeda – not to each other – since before Bellatrix got sent to Azkaban, save for the first time they saw each other after she escaped to Malfoy Manor and asked, "Is the blood-traitor still married?" A simple "yes" was all Narcissa had to say. Bellatrix spit on the ground, making clear her disgust, and that was the end of it.

"I hate to admit it," Narcissa began, wondering how honest she should be, "But I used to think about her all the time, especially when you were first in Azkaban…" And Narcissa told her older sister how lonely she'd been, how much she'd wished Draco and his only cousin could have grown up knowing each other, but, to be safe, she ended by saying she rarely thought about their middle sister anymore… even though that was untrue.

Bellatrix snuggled closer, her right arm wrapped around Narcissa's waist. "She's going to be a grandmother."

"What?" Narcissa pushed Bellatrix away so she could look at her. "How do you know that? I didn't hear anything."

"I don't remember from whom I heard it, but I learned the news back in September and it's since been confirmed. That half-blood daughter of hers and that half-breed werewolf Lupin are expecting."

"That's bizarre," said Narcissa, suddenly worrying again about her son's relationship with that awful Parkinson girl. "We're too young to be grandmothers."

"Especially me," said Bellatrix, again settling her head in Narcissa's lap. "I first have to become a mother."

"You're the eldest," Narcissa reminded her. "If any of us could be ready to be a grandmother, it would be you."

"Do you really think I'm old? Perhaps too old? When it's born I'll be a month away from forty-seven."

"And how old is the father?" asked Narcissa, too casually. In her head she played the old Who is My Husband Fucking Now game, but with her sister's name in place of Lucius'. She ran down a mental list of possibilities for her sister:

Lucius himself, unfortunately, came to mind first. Perhaps it _wasn't_ Juliet Rosier he was stepping out with all the time. Come to think of it, many of the times he disappeared, Bella was gone too. Narcissa's ears burned. Was it possible? If not him, who? Crabbe? Yaxley? Rowle?

"Don't do that," snapped Bella. "Don't try to trick me into telling you who the father is. If you want to know, simply ask."

"Alright. Who's the father?"

"I'm not telling."

"Promise me one thing? It's not my Lucius, is it? You'd tell me if it were?"

"Seriously?" Bella sat up again, even though it pained her to do so. "Why does everyone assume I'm sleeping with Lucius? Have I ever given anyone any indication I feel anything beyond sheer loathing for that smarmy bastard?"

"He'll fuck anything that moves," answered Narcissa, with an unusual hardness in her voice. "You move, so I have to wonder."

"I'm not sleeping with your husband," Bellatrix assured her. "Nor would I ever want to." She settled down for a third time. Narcissa returned to stroking her hair. Bellatrix sighed almost contentedly. "Cissy… have you ever lost a baby?"

"Yes," Narcissa answered simply. "Have you?"

"Once, on purpose, but that's all. How come you never told me you lost one?"

"I've lost three."

"Three? Shit! Does this run in our family?"

Figuring her sister had the right to know, Narcissa told her everything, about having been pregnant when she got married, about being afraid she'd lose Draco, about the two pregnancies that followed him…

"One I lost and one…"

She let that last word hang in the air, unable to finish her thought.

"One…?" Bellatrix prompted.

"I'm content with one child."

Understanding dawned on Bella's face. "Ah. So you got rid of one, too?"

Narcissa closed her eyes and fought to keep her voice steady. "Last year. After Lucius was sent to Azkaban."

Bellatrix would have sprung up into a seated position again but her body was already exhausted from having done it before, so she clutched Narcissa's left wrist instead.

"Cissy, you killed your baby last year? How? When? Where did you go? How didn't I know? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't _kill my baby_ , I terminated the pregnancy."

"It's the same damn thing. You're arguing semantics."

Narcissa opened her eyes and drew her gaze up to the ceiling, willing back tears. "I can't think of it as killing my baby, Bella. I have to think of it as terminating the pregnancy."

"Fine, then, whatever," said Bellatrix flippantly. "Tell me about terminating your pregnancy."

"It was early enough, all I had to do was take a potion. Severus made it. It was a matter of weeks before… before he and I made the Unbreakable Vow. That's why he told me the Vow was the last favor he'd do for me, that I couldn't ask him for anything else…"

This was the most intimate conversation they'd had in such a long time. Months definitely. Years, maybe. Possibly since before Bellatrix went to Azkaban. Even though Narcissa was terrified she would accidentally reveal her secret about Severus, or her other secret, about Andromeda, she couldn't help feeling comforted by the sheer act of confiding in her sister.

Bella moved her head from Cissy's lap to her chest, arm still around her sister's waist. She could hear the rhythmic thump of Narcissa's heart beating against her ear.

"Are you aware that there are rumors about us?" asked Bellatrix. "Inappropriate ones."

"I'm not surprised," answered Narcissa, which, to Bellatrix, was indeed a surprise. "I think my husband started those rumors. It's a twisted fantasy of his, seeing me with another woman, you in particular. He fancies you as much as he loathes you. He always has. He tells me these things but I ignore him."

"Men are pigs."

"I concur."

"I've been with women," Bellatrix said, casually-but-loftily, as if she was discussing to having sampled caviar. "I enjoy it, for the most part. Something different."

"I wouldn't know what to do with a woman," said Narcissa, lip curled in disgust. She hadn't wanted to believe it, when Severus told her that her formerly promiscuous sister had slept with women, but apparently it was true. She tried not to look as repulsed as she felt, for fear of hurting Bella's feelings.

"I hardly know what to do with a man… perhaps that's why Lucius cheats on me. It's December and we've had sex only seventeen times this year. This whole year. I know; I've kept count."

Of course, Lucius had been in Azkaban until July, but that didn't bear bringing up. Seventeen times in sixth months for a married couple wasn't much better than seventeen times in one year, she figured.

"That's so sad," said Bellatrix with genuine pity. Though it was a lie, she added, "I've had more sex with my husband and I don't even _like_ him."

She tried to shift positions but winced, letting out an involuntary whimper.

"Snape gave me a potion and a salve and I used both but fuck, Cissy, everything hurts."

"Why don't you sleep now?" Narcissa coaxed her sister back to her own side of the bed. "When you wake, I'll have more food brought to you. You have to eat. For your own health and for that of the baby."

"I don't want to be left alone, Cissy," Bellatrix whined, no longer caring about showing weakness in front of her sister. "Stay with me?"

"You sleep. I'll stay."

"You won't leave once I'm sleeping?"

"I'll stay. I promise. Close your eyes."

Bellatrix closed her one good eye, settling onto her back, not her usual sleeping position, but the least painful possibility for the moment. Narcissa closed her own eyes, exhausted from two nights of worrying and drowsy thanks to the wine.

"You'll stay?" asked Bellatrix again, sounding very much the way Narcissa used to when they were little, when she didn't want to be alone in her bed, when she was afraid of their Stepfather and whether he might pay a nighttime visit.

"I'll stay," Narcissa promised. "You sleep."

Bellatrix slept.

Narcissa stayed.

But, despite her overwhelming exhaustion, Narcissa didn't sleep. She was consumed by guilt.

She hated outright lying to her sister, though she couldn't help being glad to have been able to keep Bella from discovering one or both of the two things she was most afraid she'd find out, which meant either Bellatrix's ability to read people was waning or that Narcissa's ability to deceive them was improving.

Narcissa was also glad she hadn't had to share the full truth about her pregnancies woes with her sister. Throughout the years that followed her second miscarriage, Lucius asked repeatedly for another baby, and as recently as the summer, she'd actually tried to give him one, but there were no more pregnancies. Lucius blamed her, calling her barren, assuring her that he _knew beyond a doubt_ that it couldn't be _his_ problem, which she took to be code for "I've gotten other women pregnant." She was tempted to ask why he didn't just have a baby with any one of the sluts he kept on the side but never did, for fear he would say fine and do exactly that.

Last year's pregnancy had been different.

Part of her wanted it.

But she was certain it wouldn't be a Malfoy.

And she couldn't have that.

She'd told Severus at the time that she didn't know who the father was, and technically that was true, but she had a feeling… she had a _feeling_ it was his. Call it mother's intuition, but in her heart, she knew. And sometimes, late at night, when she was alone, and drinking, and crying, she thought about that baby she'd chosen not to have. She wondered what it would've looked like, whether it would've been a boy or a girl, whether it would have his black hair or her gray eyes, whether it would have made him happy… whether it could've made him forget about Lily Potter…

Beside her, Bellatrix stirred and twitched. Narcissa could see her good eye moving rapidly behind its lid and wondered whether she was having a nightmare, whether she should wake her. Much the way she stared at baby Draco when she was unreasonably terrified that he would stop breathing in his sleep, she kept her eyes on Bellatrix for as long as she could, watching for any sign that something wasn't right, worrying, until her own exhaustion became too great. She had a nightmare, as she always did when she managed to doze off without the aid of Dreamless Sleep.

Sometime later she awoke out of breath, drenched in sweat, having had an awful nightmare. It took a second to realize where she was. Beside her, Bellatrix was still out cold. Narcissa's heart slowed to a normal pace. At a loss for anything else to do, she settled back down, used her wand to summon a quilt from the top of the hope chest, and covered them with it.

Then she thought about Andromeda. They had just seen each other in September. Why hadn't Andromeda mentioned that she was going to be a grandmother? How did Bellatrix know?

Narcissa dozed off again. The next time she opened her eyes, she realized it was getting dark outside. It had to be at least four, maybe five o'clock. She woke Bella, told her she was going downstairs to make soup, and left the room.

Downstairs in the kitchen, she sliced and diced assorted vegetables, leaving broth simmering on the stove. She wondered whether she'd missed the opportunity to say goodbye to Severus. Surely he'd finished his business with the Dark Lord by now, and in all liklihood, when he couldn't find her, he'd headed back to Hogwarts. She sighed, disappointed.

"Everything alright?" asked a voice from behind her.

She didn't need to turn around to see who it was.

"Severus! I was just thinking about you."

"What a coincidence," he said, entering the room. "I was just thinking about you. What are you doing?"

"I'm making soup. Better soup. Earlier I just heated up a can of chicken broth, which she didn't eat, but since she must be starving by now I thought something heartier would be ideal." She didn't look at him, instead keeping an eye on the large yellow onion she was chopping. Beside her, in a green glass bowl, she'd already mixed diced carrots, celery, green beans, and mushrooms.

"What kind of soup is this?" he asked, peering into the pot, where the dark brown broth was beginning to boil. She used her wand to turn down the heat from high to medium.

"Vegetable soup."

"You plan to put raw onions in it?"

She shrugged. "They're good for your eyes."

"I believe _carrots_ are good for your eyes."

"Great," said Narcissa, adding the onions to the other veggies in the bowl. She plucked out a piece of carrot and fed it to him. "She'll have very healthy eyes."

He chuckled.

"What else do you reckon I should toss in?" Narcissa stirred the broth, then, little by little, began to add the cut up veggies. "Cherry tomatoes?"

"No, I think onions, celery, carrots, green beans, and mushrooms are quite enough." Unable to help himself, he slipped his arm around her waist, settling his left hand on her lower abdomen, then moved her hair aside with his right to kiss her neck. She tilted her head to grant him better access and sighed contentedly, resting her back against his chest. She then placed the wooden spoon in the center of the stove and reached her right hand up to the back of his head, under his hair, as he sucked on that spot below her ear. His right hand drifted up the front of her body. He took her left breast in his right hand, squeezing it, eliciting a gasp from her, before he slipped his fingers under the front of her dress, fondling her without the fabric in the way. His other hand moved from her abdomen to between her legs, pulling her even closer to him. She could feel his arousal growing against her lower back. Instinctively, she thrust against him, which made him moan.

"I want you," he murmured in her ear. She closed her eyes as he kissed her neck again. "I can't wait until New Year's. I want you now."

"Why now?" she whispered, though she wasn't planning to protest.

"I've had a very long meeting with the Dark Lord," he said, envisioning her nipple in his mouth rather than under his fingers. "Now I have to deliver a message to your sister, then return to Hogwarts for a long week of dreadful meals with my colleagues, who hate me, while looking after all the insufferably brats whose parents didn't take them home for the holidays – they also hate me. I'm not looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to _you_." He moved his lips to her shoulder. "You changed. You weren't wearing _this_ this morning. I like it." His hand moved from her left breast to the right as his teeth scraped ever-so-lightly against her skin.

She turned her head so she could kiss him. It wasn't the most comfortable pose, but his hands massaging her chest and rubbing between her legs more than distracted from the slight pain that came from rotating her neck to that degree. After a few seconds of making out in this position, she twisted her body until they were facing each other, still attached by the lips and tongues, as she used her hand to stroke him through his robes.

"You're making me hard," he growled into her ear, grinding closer to her.

"That seems fair," she whispered. "You're making me wet. Let's lock the door and do it right here."

He ran his hand up from her ass to her lower back, prepared to do exactly that, when a burning sensation against his knuckles made him yelp. He pulled away.

"What?" she asked, alarmed.

"Your hair!" he exclaimed. "It's on fire!"

Her waist-length hair had apparently managed to connect with the flame on the stove, and she'd been so distracted by desire for him she hadn't even noticed.

"Help!" she shrieked, jumping up and down in place, which, if anything, made it worse. "Help me, Severus! Help! Do something!"

"Stay still!" He grabbed her by the arm, swiveled her around, and used Sectumsempra to chop her hair off from just above where it was burning. It landed on the floor.

"Aquamenti!" he said, pointing his wand at the floor. The stream of water put out the flames. He Vanished the mess, but there was nothing he could do about the sickening smell of burnt hair that had filled the kitchen.

"Oh…" Narcissa said weakly, looking to the floor where her hair had been. She reached up and tugged at what was left, which was now barely long enough to touch her shoulders. "My hair."

"What's going on?" asked Lucius, entering, with Draco right behind him. "We heard you scream."

"My hair…" said Narcissa weakly, fighting tears. "My hair… my beautiful long hair…"

"Your wife set herself on fire," said Severus, shifting uncomfortably, grateful his robes weren't form-fitting. "She's fine."

"My hair! My hair, Lucius! I burned off my hair!"

"Damn it, Narcissa! You could've hurt yourself!" snapped Lucius. "Or worse, you could've burned down Malfoy Manor. What the hell were you trying to do?"

"My hair," she whimpered.

"She was making soup for her sister," explained Severus. Draco, eyes narrowed, shot him a look.

"What were _you_ doing?" the boy asked. "Apprentice chefing?"

"Chefing is not a word," answered Severus. "Chef is a profession, not a verb."

"He's right, of course," said Lucius, moving to his wife's side. "Speak properly, Draco. Haven't we taught you that much?"

Draco ignored his father, still glaring at Severus, while Lucius assessed the damage.

"You can fix it, Narcissa," he said. "Even it out in the back. It'll be a lot shorter, but it's fine."

"Fine?!" she asked, utter despair in her trembling voice. "It'll be _fine_?!"

"We have more important things to worry about than the length of your hair," said Lucius dismissively. "Severus, did you tell her about her sister?"

"I was about to," he said, "But then I realized she was on fire."

"Severus, Dolohov, and Hortensia Higgins visited your sister yesterday," said Lucius, guiding Narcissa to a chair while turning off the stove with his wand. "Tortured her and that Metamorph for an hour or so, but they won't give up where the werewolf is hiding."

"Is she okay?" asked Narcissa, rubbing the end of her hair between her thumb and forefinger. "Andromeda?"

Lucius shrugged. "Who cares, really?"

Narcissa looked to Severus. He couldn't say anything, not out loud, but in her head she heard his voice: "Yes. I'll explain later."

She nodded, ever so slightly, then put her head down on the table, resting on top of her folded arms.

"I have to relay Andromeda's message to Bellatrix," said Severus. He glanced at Draco, who was still glaring back at him. "If you'll excuse me."

"Tell her I'll bring the soup up shortly," said Narcissa softly, not lifting her head.

"I will."

Bellatrix was just as happy to see him in the evening as she had been in the morning.

"Fuck," she said, rolling her good eye. "You again?"

"I missed you too," he said dryly.

"Why have you returned? Forget something?"

"Only a bit of information your sister insisted I share with you."

"Can't she share it with me herself when she's done making soup?"

He leaned back against the closed bedroom door, regarding her carefully. "Not Narcissa."

Bellatrix sat up straighter. He had her attention.

"Her daughter and the werewolf have reunited," he said, as if disinterested. "I believe you know that they're expecting."

"Why would Andromeda think I'd care about this?"

"She sent me with a message for you."

"Yes," said Bellatrix. "When you said you had information my sister insisted you share with me, I figured that meant she sent you with a message."

"If you don't want to hear it…" began Severus, turning as if to go. Bellatrix stopped him.

"Nonsense. You came all this way."

"All this way from the kitchen," said Severus. "I could just as easily…"

"What's my fucking message?"

He tsked. "So impatient. Andromeda wants you to know that her daughter and the werewolf have reunited. As you are aware, your niece is pregnant. As you may or may not be aware, your sister is terrified that you seek to murder the aforementioned niece."

"Why shouldn't I?" asked Bellatrix. "That blood-traitor. She almost killed my husband the night we took down Mad-Eye Moody. She deserves to die for that alone."

"Your beloved husband," murmured Severus. "Yes, I'm sure you'd have been heartbroken had he succumbed to his injuries."

"That's not the point."

"It so rarely is. In any case, your sister has asked me to inform you that, should anything happen to her daughter and unborn grandchild, she would be all-too willing to let slip what you revealed to her on the bathroom floor. She did not, in case you're curious, tell me what this secret is, but she seemed to think you'd be most disinterested in sharing whatever it is with the whole Wizarding World."

"She agreed to shut up about it," said Bellatrix.

"Perhaps that was before Death Eaters returned to her home."

"What?"

"Yesterday," explained Severus. This is what he'd been planning to tell Narcissa when he'd found her in the kitchen, but libido had gotten the better of him. "You were otherwise occupied. They were looking for the werewolf, having just learned of the end of the couple's estrangement. I was among those sent."

"You told me you weren't here yesterday because you had pressing business at Hogwarts!"

"I _had_ pressing business at Hogwarts," he said, shrugging. "I took an hour away from that to visit your sister."

"Stop calling her my sister. She has a name."

"Mrs. Tonks," Severus amended.

"Not _that_ name! Call her Andromeda."

"If you wish. I was among those sent to see _Andromeda_. Dolohov hit her with the Cruciatus curse the moment we were inside her house –"

Bellatrix interjected. "How did you get in? I told… I… she should have protective wards in place."

"She does. Once they were broken and we were inside, Dolohov aimed for her. Your niece – excuse me, _Nymphadora_ – entered then and disarmed him. Hortensia raised her wand, but Andromeda said, 'I wouldn't if I were you.' She looked to me, I held up a hand to the others, and we waited to hear what she had to say."

Bellatrix leaned forward painfully, and whispered, "What did she have to say?"

"Weren't you listening, you dolt? She said 'should anything happen to her daughter and unborn grandson, she would be all-too willing to let slip what you revealed to her on the bathroom floor.' I thought I was perfectly clear."

"What did Hortensia and Dolohov think she meant?"

"I don't think they had a clue, but I did. So I told her we came seeking information concerning the whereabouts of the werewolf. Tonks – _Nymphadora_ – assured us that he, like her father, is on the run so they couldn't tell us where to find him even if they wanted to, but she couldn't stop herself from adding that she wouldn't tell us even if she knew. Hortensia and Dolohov were itching to play a little longer, perhaps work out a bit of pent-up aggression, but I told them the Dark Lord would be most displeased should Andromeda make good on her threat, so we left."

Bellatrix was fuming. The Dark Lord had been right. Her 'condition,' and knowledge thereof, made her a weakness for their side.

"I did not tell this to the Dark Lord," Severus said. He had a knack for knowing what she was thinking, even without exercising his Legillemency skills. "Rather, I advised Nymphadora to stay out of our way, then, before departing, altered the memories of both Hortensia and Dolohov so they believe that we tortured both women for some time."

"Why? And why tell me this now? Why not earlier?"

"I wasn't planning to tell you this at all, as I figured it would only make your blood-lust for your niece greater."

Bellatrix flushed. He was right.

"I've just come from a discussion with the Dark Lord during which He mentioned you."

Bellatrix shook her head. "No, you said you were down in the kitchen."

He sighed. "I had a discussion with the Dark Lord, after which I felt hungry. So I went down to the kitchen briefly, and am now here."

"What about me?"

"He wants you to be the one to do it."

"Do what?"

"Murder Nymphadora Tonks…" He looked into her good eye, which darted back and forth, and because she was unguarded he was able to see into her thoughts. She was committed to the task. He shook his head. "I wouldn't. Nymphadora is pregnant. The same sort of magic that protected Harry Potter as a baby might also protect your niece's unborn child. The Killing Curse could backfire on you. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

"What of Andromeda?"

"If you were to kill her, surely her daughter would come after you, and then what? Then risk the Killing Curse rebounding? Is that wise… in your _condition_? I told the Dark Lord that it would not be wise for you to target Nymphadora at this time. He understands and agrees. In His words, 'We shall leave the Metamorph be, for now.' For the record, I do not enjoy meddling in your family affairs."

"Why wouldn't that same magic protect me?" asked Bellatrix. "The Killing Curse could not rebound on me because of… my condition."

"It was love that saved Harry Potter and it would be love that could save Baby Werewolf. Can you say for certain your baby would benefit from the same protection? Is your baby carried in love? Was your baby created through love?"

"None of your damn business," she snapped, but it was clear he had gotten to her.

"Have a lovely afternoon," said Severus, reaching for the door handle. "I don't expect I'll be seeing you again soon. Shall I send Narcissa up now with the soup? I believe she put onions in it."

"I hate onions." Bellatrix was pouting.

He smirked. "Narcissa says they're good for your eyes."

"What?" Bellatrix let out an exasperated sigh. "No, she's an idiot. It's carrots that are good for your eyes. Onions are good for shit."

"I thought kale did that? Leafy greens are a high source of fiber."

"I didn't mean… I meant onions are good for nothing. Oh, quit it!"

Severus was chuckling at his own joke. Bellatrix threw a pillow at him.

"Whatever she put in it," he said, gently tossing the pillow back onto the bed, "Eat it and pretend to like it. She's working very hard to throw together something edible. The least you could do is be grateful." _Especially since it cost her half her hair,_ he thought.

"Grateful? I'll probably die of food poisoning."

"Well, one could only hope."

On his way out, Severus dropped by the kitchen. Narcissa was again alone, ladling the finished soup into a bowl. Her eyes were red and puffy. It was obvious she'd been sobbing.

"You're just as beautiful with shorter hair," he said quietly, unsure of whether anyone else was close by.

"My hair was my best feature and now, between the gray and the… the _singeing_ … it's… it's… it's _ruined_!" Her eyes filled again with tears.

"Nothing is ruined. You're beautiful," he assured her. "You're beautiful no matter what your hair looks like. You're always beautiful."

"You don't mean that," she said, "But it helps to hear it all the same."

"I _do_ mean it. Listen, Narcissa… I can't stay, I've already been here too long… and what… what happened earlier, it was stupid. Dangerous. And I don't mean because of the fire."

"Great!" she interjected, certain this was the start of another break up speech. As they had several times already that day, her eyes burned with tears.

"But I'll see you on New Year's Eve," he said, pleasantly surprising her. "I'll meet you on the grounds, near the apparition point, at six exactly. We'll get dinner before the play."

"I offered to cook for you," she reminded him, adding a hunk of Italian bread to the tray to her sister.

"Do you still want to?"

"No."

"In that case, we'll get dinner before the play. Bring my notebook with you."

"Bring… what?"

"My notebook." He leaned casually against the doorjamb as she poured her sister a cup of tea and placed it on the tray beside an empty glass, presumably for water. "The one you gave me for my birthday. I want it back. If that's alright."

She smiled, wiping stray tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her dress. "I'd be happy to return it to you, Severus."

"Excellent," he said. He thought about crossing the kitchen to kiss her goodbye, but decided against it. "Until next week."

"Until next week," she whispered. "Thank you."


	22. New Year's Eve, 1997

**Chapter Twenty-two – New Year's Eve, 1997**

Lucius left around 5:30, which gave Narcissa just barely enough time to change, fix her hair, put on some makeup, fasten her new diamond and onyx bracelet to her wrist (her Christmas gift from her husband, which he'd finally given her before bed that night) and slip her feet into cute fur-lined high-heeled boots, before it was time to meet him at the apparition point at the edge of the wards around Malfoy Manor.

Draco was going out too, but not with Pansy Parkinson.

No, he told his mother he was taking out a new girl, a Fifth year named Astoria Greengrass, Ravenclaw, younger sister of a Slytherin. He said he'd met her on September 1st aboard the Hogwarts Express and he thought she seemed "Okay."

Though she tried not to be like her Mother, Narcissa couldn't help being excited by this new development, given that the Greengrass family was among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, like the Malfoys and Blacks. Bellatrix, on the other hand, didn't bother to hide her happiness. She handed Draco several galleons and told him to be sure to take the girl "Someplace nice" and to "Make a good impression," adding "don't be afraid to bring her back here later, should you need to, if you know what I mean…" which prompted a smack in the arm from Narcissa.

"Ouch, Cissy! I still have bruises there!" She still had bruises everywhere, actually, some of which were now turning a greenish color. Green meant they were healing, but they almost looked worse than the deep purple they'd been on Recovery Day Three. Plus, her eye was still mostly black and blue, and she was walking slowly. Narcissa didn't seem terribly sympathetic about this, though, in the moment.

"You're going to have fresh bruises if you're encouraging my son to bring a girl home for… for _that_!"

"Don't worry, Mother," said Draco, pocketing the galleons along with his wand. "I barely know Astoria. We're going out to dinner and a Weird Sisters concert. It's walking distance from where she lives. In her Owl she said her father made it quite clear she was to be home by ten and no later."

"Ten, on New Year's Eve?" asked Bellatrix. "That's ridiculous. Are they connected to the Floo Network? I could pop in, encourage them to let her stay out until at least after midnight! I can be very… persuasive."

"You'll do no such thing!" exclaimed Narcissa. "He's meeting her at seven. Seven to ten is quite long enough for a first date! An hour for dinner, two hours for the concert, and home again. That's precisely what a first date should be."

Bella shrugged. "I had sex on my first date," she said unapologetically. Narcissa smacked her again. "Ouch! Dammit, Cissy!"

"Do _not_ listen to your aunt, Draco! She's a hideous influence."

"Draco, my dear, sweet boy," said Bella in a sugary tone, always content to play the devil on his shoulder, "Do whatever makes you happy. If you like this girl… if she makes you happy… take her home and–"

"If you _like_ her," interrupted Narcissa, "Talk to her, _listen to her_ , treat her well, pay for dinner, kiss her goodnight, and have her home by five of ten. Lucius always used to have me home five minutes before curfew."

This sent Bella into a fit of giggles. "Yeah, because _he_ didn't need the full three hours to…"

Narcissa smacked her a third time. This time Bellatrix swore, rubbing her sore arm.

"Feeling awfully big, aren't you, baby sister? Picking on me when I'm wounded? You're lucky I'm in a good mood, or else I'd torture you into Longbottom-levels of insanity for that shit!"

"Your father and I waited until marriage," Narcissa insisted, ignoring her sister's threat. "As all young couples should."

"It's the nineties, Cissy," said Bellatrix. "You have fun, Draco. Do whatever she'll allow you. Just don't knock her up."

"I don't care what decade it is, Bella! I don't want my son thinking it's acceptable to go about doing… _that_ … at seventeen years old."

"You were _married_ by his age!"

"That's different!"

"Why? You want him to marry her? She's only fifteen, for fuck's sake! She'd be a child bride. That's sick." Bella's mad eyes twinkled. She was enjoying this… it was like committing an act of torture without a wand. In the same way asserting her dominance over her husband did, this entertained her.

"I want him to marry a girl before he does _you-know-what_ with a girl!"

" _You-know-what?_ Please!" Bella collapsed into giggles again. "You mean, 'It-That-Must-Not-Be-Named?' For the love of Merlin, it's called _sex_ , Narcissa. You're almost forty-three years old – you may not be _having_ it, hell, you may not even _remember_ it, but you should at least be able to _identify_ it by its name."

"This is the most uncomfortable conversation I've ever been a part of," Draco piped up, looking slightly paler than usual. He sighed. "Mother, don't worry, we aren't planning to do _that_ , we're planning to have dinner and see the Weird Sisters. It's the first concert they've put on since the Dark Lord returned. It's being sponsored by the Ministry, so you know it'll be safe. Besides, Astoria's older sister and half our friends from Hogwarts are going too, so we won't even be alone. We plan to leave early so she'll be home on time, or five minutes early, I guess. It's our first… it's not even a date, not really. It's just… dinner."

"What about the Parkinson girl?" asked Narcissa. It had suddenly occurred to her that she didn't recall her son saying anything about breaking it off with her. Did this mean he was cheating? Oh, she _so_ hoped he wouldn't be like his father.

"Pansy stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas. She doesn't know, but she won't care. It's not a big deal."

Great. He was probably going to be _exactly_ like his father.

"And don't worry about Auntie being a bad influence," Draco added. "I never listen to her."

"Bugger off, Draco," said Bellatrix, pouting. "I hope my own little brat is more respectful of its elders than you are."

Narcissa scoffed. "I hope your own little brat sleeps around at seventeen so you can fully understand why the very idea both panics and disgust me."

"Bite me, Cissy."

"You two are awful," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "Are all siblings like this? Glad I never had one. If you'll excuse me, I have to talk to Father before he leaves."

"You're so uptight," Bellatrix lectured once Draco was out of earshot. "You really think Draco's going to remain a virgin until marriage just because you _pretend_ you did? You should be happy for him. You never liked that awful Parkinson girl, and now he's seeing a Greengrass. She's one of the Sacred Twenty-eight, which is a significant step up, even if she _is_ in Ravenclaw. They could get married in a few years and give you perfect little Pureblood grandbabies."

"He's my son," said Narcissa. "Forgive me if I want to keep him from growing up too quickly. In seventeen years or so, you'll understand."

"I plan to approach motherhood very differently than you have," said Bellatrix, switching abruptly from amused to arrogant. "And I'll be the best damn mother the Black family has ever seen."

"That's a low bar," Narcissa pointed out. Then they'd parted ways, neither quite understanding the other, and retired to their respective rooms.

Draco was still in the shower when Narcissa had to leave to meet Severus.

"Don't have sex," she whispered as she passed the (closed) door to his bedroom, hoping the words would magically meet his ears.

At the edge of the wards, Severus waited, feeling nervous. They hadn't communicated since Christmas day, save for an Owl he sent her that said simply, _Wear Muggle attire. –SS._ He was dressed plainly enough, in black trousers with a belt, a moss green button-down shirt, with a warm black jacket to protect against the cold.

He smiled when he saw her. She looked lovely, as usual, though it was strange to see her clothed in something other than a form-fitting floor-length dress or ornate witch's robes.

"This is a very different look for you," he said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

"Do you like?" Her coat, which was soft and dark gray, was tied with a cloth belt, but open enough that he could see her blouse, which was Cabernet red and partially unbuttoned over a black camisole. Her skirt, also black, flared out slightly and fell to just above her knees.

"I do."

"I borrowed it from my sister. I don't have any Muggle clothes."

He seemed surprised. "And she does?"

"She has half a wardrobe full, all neatly arranged by season. Skirts, pants, this coat, these thigh-high nylons, blouses of a variety of different styles. I don't know why. I didn't ask. I just waited until she was out and took what I wanted."

This made him chuckle. "So, you _stole_ the entire ensemble?"

"Yes," she confirmed, trying to look as though she felt bad about it, but failing. "Except the bra and the heels. Those are mine."

"I look forward to divesting you of both," he said, which made her blush. "Shall we apparate?"

She took his arm. "I'm ready."

 _Pop!_

Dinner was lovely. They drank wine, ate a light gourmet meal, and made conversation with ease – he told her about the goings-on at Hogwarts, she relayed her uncomfortable earlier conversation with Draco and Bella – until he had paid the check and they were leaving.

The theatre, which was walking distance from the restaurant, was in a Muggle area she'd never been, at a place called the Little Palace Theatre.

"That's the name of the play? On that lit-up thing?" asked Narcissa, pointing up to the brightly lit neon sign with black words scrolled across it.

 **LITTLE PALACE THEATRE**

 **CHRISTIE… AND THEN THERE WERE NONE**

 **Special Engagement… 1 Night Only… Dec 31… 8PM**

"Yes," said Severus. "And Then There Were None. That's the marquee it's on."

"The what?"

"Where they put the information about the currently running show," he explained. "It's called a marquee. They usually stage musicals here, but the Christmas show closed two weeks ago and the new season hasn't started yet, so each year, the Murder is Announced Players take over for one night only, to ring in the New Year. Last year they did Murder on the Orient Express."

"That book you were reading."

"Yes."

"Fascinating," said Narcissa, who truly meant it. She was fascinated by the lights, by the well-dressed people gathered in line outside, by the massive, ornately decorated lobby, by the ushers in their little pillbox hats, by the red carpeting and the many levels for audience members and the massive stage, where a brocade curtain hung, hiding the set from view. Above them were black cylinders of various shapes and sizes and what looked like a series of caged-in tunnels.

"That's the catwalk, which allows the crew members to get from one piece of lighting equipment to another."

"Muggles certainly can be clever sometimes, can't they?" Her silvery eyes were wide and shiny as she took in the room around her. They were seated off of the first balcony level, in what Severus called "the box," overlooking the left side of the stage.

"Stage right," Severus said, pointing. "When we're looking at the stage, our left is stage right and our right is stage left, because it goes by what the actor sees when standing center and staring out at the audience. The actors will be wearing costumes. This is a playbill," he handed her a bound program with a glossy cover. On it, two people were standing over a dead body, looking pensive. They weren't moving as they would be in a wizarding photo. "It tells you who's who in the cast and crew."

"How do you know all this? From seeing a show each year?"

"Theatre was another of my Muggle grandmother's interests. As much as I hated my father, I loved his mother. I used to beg her to let me live with her, but..." His voice trailed off. "They get clever with special effects in the theatre. It can be hard to tell what's real and what isn't."

"Do they really kill anyone?" asked Narcissa. Severus stared at her, certain she must be joking, but her expression was one of complete seriousness.

"If they really killed off the actors one by one," he said slowly, trying not to laugh (because doing so might hurt her feelings) "They would have to cast and train new ones each night. I should think that would be a tiresome process."

"Oh." She giggled. "I suppose it was a stupid question."

"There are no stupid questions," he said, taking her gloved hand between his. He brought it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"Aren't there? I'm certain, if I were a student in your Potions class, there are a great many questions I could ask that you would deem 'stupid.' Don't tell me I'm wrong."

" _You_ wouldn't ask a stupid question in a Potions class," argued Severus. He would have said more, but a couple was entering the box, prepared to take the two empty seats beside theirs.

Narcissa glimpsed up at them and, assuming they were Muggles, chose her next words carefully.

"My point, Professor, is that there are indeed stupid questions, and I'm certain your students have, at some point over the fifteen or so years that you taught, asked them of you."

"Incorrect," said Severus, squeezing her hand, which he was still holding. "My stupider students were generally so terrified of me they kept their stupid questions to themselves."

"You're a teacher?" asked the female half of the Muggle couple. She had an accent Narcissa couldn't place, but she found it off-putting all the same. "Jolly good! As am I! That's what you say here in London, isn't it? Jolly good?"

"Indeed," said Severus dryly, realizing at once that the pair were, most unfortunately, not only Muggles, but Americans. "We also say 'bloody hell' and 'cheerio.'"

"Don't listen to him. I have never once in my life said 'cheerio.'" Narcissa removed her hand from between his and slipped off her gloves, placing them inside the deep pocket of her coat, beside her wand. They'd had the option of checking their coats downstairs, but since neither had a good place to hide their wands inside their Muggle attire, they'd thought better of it.

"You haven't?" asked Severus, one eyebrow raised. "Bloody hell, I'm shocked."

"Your husband is teasing us, right?" asked the woman. She was perhaps twenty-five, with long, frazzled brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail surrounded by slips that looked like translucent butterflies. She wore a short black dress with a necklace that looked like ribbon tied flush against her skin, with a tiny pendant dangling from the center The man with her was a little older, around thirty-five, clean cut, broad-shouldered, and dressed like Severus, except that his button down shirt was white.

"I am, yes," Severus answered the woman, at the same moment Narcissa said, "Oh, he's not my husband."

"He's not?" The man pointed to her left ring finger, where a silver band holding a large, princess cut diamond surrounded by smaller emeralds bookended by two onyx stones sparkled impressively. The man and woman exchanged a glance.

"I'm… a widow." It was the first thing that came to mind. Severus rolled his eyes. Most women in the wizarding world didn't even bother with wedding rings, that was a decidedly Muggle tradition, but of course Narcissa wouldn't pass up the opportunity to wear flashy and ornate jewelry, especially if it showed her status (which, in their circle, as the wife of Lucius Malfoy, it certainly did – it even had the family motto engraved inside the band: "Santimona Vincet Semper," or, "Purity Will Always Conquer.").

"A widow? Oh, I'm so sorry!" exclaimed the woman, who was fiddling with her own wedding ring, a modest diamond chip on a simple gold band. "When did he pass?"

"Last week," answered Narcissa matter-of-factly. Severus nudged her, eyes darting toward the couple, who were exchanging a second, more horrified, glance. In her mind, Narcissa heard Severus' voice.

 _Last week? Seriously?_

"One year ago last week," she quickly amended. "Sorry. Sometimes it still… it still feels like I just saw him this morning." She tried to appear mournful, but the look didn't suit her.

 _For fuck's sake,_ thought Severus. It was a good thing the Dark Lord didn't have any use for Narcissa. She'd be rubbish as a spy.

Thankfully they didn't have to continue the conversation. The lights dimmed, indicating it was time for the play to begin, and once it did Narcissa was completely enthralled. She'd never seen such a thing before, with grown adults dressed up like they were living in another time, pretending to be other people. She felt she could relate, frankly, given the fact that she was to spend the entire evening pretending magic didn't exist, pretending she was comfortable in such odd clothes, and pretending her very-much-alive husband had been dead for a year.

During intermission, they each had another glass of wine and chatted pleasantly with the American couple, but only to speculate 'whodunnit' and why. Severus refused to give up the identity of the murderer, even though he admitted to having re-read the play the week before. While they chatted, Narcissa noticed that he kept finding subtle ways to touch her, brushing his shoulder against hers, or lightly placing his hand over her knee. She glanced at him when he did so, but he didn't even seem to notice. Perhaps it was subconscious, which was almost better. Her heart fluttered every time.

 _Calm down, Narcissa,_ she mentally scolded herself. _It's just an affair. Just a play. Just one night. It's not emotional. It's not a date. He's not_ yours _. Close your mind._

Then, just before the end of intermission, the American woman started complaining about a couple she'd seen earlier in the evening. A pink-haired pregnant woman and a tired looking older man, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, nearly knocking them over near the restaurant where they'd eaten dinner. Severus found this interesting, of course, and asked several follow-up questions, but Narcissa wasn't sure why.

"Didn't even apologize!" exclaimed the American woman, aghast, as she sipped the second glass of white wine her husband had purchased at Intermission's start. "And here they told me you Brits are always so polite, right? Not this ruddy wanker. That's what you call people right? Ruddy wankers? I should have told him to sod off. That's like saying 'eff you,' right?"

Thankfully, Narcissa and Severus were again saved from the conversation by the dimming of the lights, and in seconds Narcissa found herself so fully immersed she forgot about the pink-haired pregnant girl, the obnoxious Americans, and even her excitement over Severus' touch (he was now holding her hand, rubbing his thumb along the back in slow circles).

At the play's dramatic conclusion, Narcissa gasped. She was shocked to discover that the murderer was… not at all the person she'd pegged a killer. After the curtain call, when the curtain was closed and the house lights came up, they put on their coats and bid adieu to the American couple.

Once they were bundled up and back outside, Narcissa linked her arm through Severus', purposely bumping his shoulder with hers.

"I enjoyed that play," she said. "It's the best play I've ever seen."

"It's the only play you've ever seen," he pointed out, but he was smiling. Lightly, snow was starting to fall. It glittered in front of the streetlights as it came down, dusting their hair and shoulders.

"I can't believe it was _him_ ," said Narcissa. "I never would've guessed! That Agatha Christie was rather brilliant, wasn't she? I saw it, I understood it, but I still can't believe it."

"Meanwhile I still can't believe you told those American Muggles that your husband died _last week_ ," said Severus, unable to hold back his laughter. He put on a higher voice, pretending to sound like her (though she thought he sounded more like Squeakers the house elf). "'Me? Oh, no, I'm not married. I'm a widow. I'm just out on a date because my husband snuffed it last week. Cheerio!'"

"Bloody hell," she swore, fighting back her own laughter. "Sod off, you ruddy wanker. How's that for _jolly good_?"

He stopped walking, slipped an arm around her waist, and positioned her in front of him. "It's a damn good thing I've spent all these years learning to control my emotions, because otherwise I might have laughed so hard I'd have hurt myself. The look on their faces when you said it…"

"You talk too much," she interjected, pressing a finger to his lips. "What now? Shall we apparate to your place on Spinner's End so you can ravage me?"

"As tempting as the offer is, unfortunately Spinner's End is otherwise occupied this evening."

"What? Why? By whom?"

"Your recently deceased husband needed someplace to spend the evening, and I needed to know where he'd be while I'm out with you, thus I told him he could…"

"You're letting my husband have sex with that prepubescent harlot at your childhood home simply so that you can safely sneak out with me?"

"Yes. Are you angry?"

"No… No, not really." She kissed him. "That was clever of you, I suppose."

"I thought so. Come on, let's get out of the cold. I want to check out the restaurant near where the American Muggles said they saw the pink-haired pregnant girl."

"Any particular reason?"

"I think she might be someone we know," he said, not offering up any more information. "If we find her, you'll understand. And if we don't, I'll explain. But not here. Knowing what they experienced was likely caused by apparition makes me nervous. Keep your wand where you can reach it."

"I always do. Should I be nervous?"

"No." They started on their way again. "I'll warn you if there's cause for worry."

"It _is_ Juliet Rosier, isn't it?" asked Narcissa, taking his gloved hand in hers. "She's the woman my husband is with tonight?"

"I assume so, though I didn't ask. I told you, she hasn't had any interest in me in months, not since I introduced her to the Dark Lord and He assigned your husband to mentor her. I doubt she has any genuine or vested interest in Lucius, either, honestly. I think she wants to move up within the ranks, grab a little power for herself, and avenge her brother's death."

"Her brother was your friend."

"Yes."

"Is Lucius your friend?"

Severus paused, contemplating his answer carefully. "He has been. I've counted him among my friends – my closest friend, really – for a long time. But sleeping with a man's wife has a way of ruining a friendship, even if he doesn't know about it. He asked me if I minded if he approached Juliet, and I said I didn't, but obviously I never asked him about whether he minded what I'm doing with you… I have a feeling the answer would be a yes, he'd mind."

"He said now that you're Headmaster, he hardly sees you."

"That's true."

"You should visit us more often."

"I wouldn't think that would be wise. Or don't you remember the last time I paid you a visit?" He brushed back a strand of her hair with his free hand.

"It's highly unlikely I'd set myself on fire _again_ , Severus." She kissed his palm. "Wasn't this the place?"

They'd reached the restaurant. Through the picture windows, they could see that the bar was downstairs, already crowded wall to wall with people waiting to ring in the New Year, while the more formal restaurant was upstairs, and nearly as crowded.

"Shall we?" asked Severus.

"Let's."

Once they'd maneuvered their way through the throngs of people to an area toward the back that was slightly less crowded, Severus left Narcissa, fighting his way to the bar to get them each a drink, Muggle money in hand.

She removed her gloves and slipped them back in her coat pocket, beside her wand. While she awaited Severus' return, she twisted the ring on finger. She loved that ring. It wasn't her original wedding ring. She, like most witches, especially of their generation, didn't initially have a wedding ring. In general, rings were worn by both wizards and witches and for decoration, or to show off one's family coat-of-arms, or to signify financial status. But by the mid-80s, wearing wedding rings was becoming more popular among witches, so she'd started hinting to Lucius that she wanted one. Because he couldn't allow his wife to settle for anything less than the best, he'd had it custom made for her, choosing the diamonds and emeralds and onyx stones and their arrangement himself, and designing the font of the engraved Malfoy family motto. He'd given it to her on her thirtieth birthday and she'd not taken it off once in the nearly thirteen years since.

 _What am I doing?_ Narcissa asked herself, overwhelmed by the guilt rising up inside her. Sure, her husband was off having his own fling, but for Lucius, as he always assured her, having an affair was only physical, whereas this fling of hers…

She looked up. Severus had made it to the bar now. He was speaking to the bartender. He must have felt her staring at him, because he glanced her way and nodded. She smiled.

Butterflies.

Again.

Like every time he'd touched her during the show, during intermission.

Butterflies.

No, whatever she had with him, it was not _only_ physical. At least, not for her. Not anymore. And it hadn't been for awhile. How long? She couldn't be sure. It seems she went so back and forth on that, thinking she was falling for him, then turning around and convincing herself she was merely content to be the object of a man's desire, which she hadn't been for her husband in some time. It was all so very confusing.

He was paying the bartender. He was getting their drinks. He was coming back.

"Red wine for you," he said, handing her the glass in his left hand. "I got scotch."

"Thank you," she said. She kissed him, just a little peck to say thank you, but when she did so, she suddenly felt her ears burning. Someone was watching them. She started to pull away, eyes darting around, but he held her close.

"I feel it too," he said softly. "Act natural."

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded. When they widened the gap between them, both attempted to glance around casually, so as not to arouse suspicion. Narcissa's eyes narrowed as she caught a glimpse of someone staring at them from over Severus' left shoulder.

"The pink-haired pregnant girl," she whispered. He followed her gaze. Standing partway across the room, away from the direction of the door, was an Asian girl with shoulder-length pink hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose. Her hands were resting on her midsection; she looked about as far along as Bellatrix.

"I thought so," he mused. The pink-haired pregnant girl's eyes widened as she realized she'd been spotted.

"Wotcher!" Severus called.

The girl looked like she was trying to decide whether to approach him or run away. Before she could decide, Severus took hold of Narcissa's elbow and steered her in the girl's direction.

"Wotcher," the girl said, so softly they almost couldn't hear her over the noise of the other patrons and the music playing in the background.

"I knew it was you," said Severus, letting go of Narcissa's arm to grab the girl's wrist. "Who else would apparate to a crowded area in London, almost landing on a couple of obnoxious Americans? Don't try to deny it."

"You wouldn't do anything to me here, would you?" she asked. "Pregnant girl at a Muggle bar?"

So this girl was one of them. How did Severus know her? Was this, perhaps, his "just a friend," the one he'd hooked up with when trying to stop thinking about Narcissa? No, that was ridiculous. Surely he would have told her... right? She couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy, no matter who this girl was.

"I have no desire to do anything to you," said Severus in the bored drone he typically reserved for use in his classroom. "But I do believe introductions are in order. Narcissa Malfoy, meet your niece, Nymphadora Tonks."

"It's Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin," the girl corrected him. "But just call me Tonks. Hello, Narcissa."

"I… you… hello," stammered Narcissa. "You're Asian."

"Only tonight," said Tonks. She made sure no one else was paying them any mind, then scrunched up her nose as her face returned to its natural state. "This is what I look like when I'm not trying to be inconspicuous."

"You could've just changed your hair to a natural color if you wanted to be inconspicuous," said Narcissa. Tonks morphed back to Asian with freckles.

"We've known each other for thirty seconds and you're already making unwelcome comments about my appearance," said Tonks. "I guess this means you and my mother _are_ sisters."

"How is your mother?" asked Narcissa.

"Not crazy about these frequent Death Eater visits." She glared at Severus. "We wouldn't mind never playing host to Dolohov or that awful woman again."

"Hortensia Higgins," said Severus. "Don't blame me. I didn't send us."

"I would've warned her," said Narcissa. "But I didn't know."

"She told me about you coming to her house last time." Tonks looked Narcissa over, as if unsure what to make of her. "She said it was the first time you'd spoken in over twenty years."

"Over twenty-five."

"She appreciated the heads-up."

"Good."

"You know, Narcissa, it hurt my mother very badly to be cast out of your family. I'm not sure why, honestly. Having heard what Sirius had to say about the Blacks, and knowing what I do about the Malfoys, I don't feel like it's any great loss, but it bothers her even to this day."

"That wasn't my fault," insisted Narcissa. _"She_ was the one who wanted to run off to marry that Mudblood… er, no offense… and Mother made it clear that keeping in contact with her after she'd done so would mean being blasted off the tapestry, same as she was! It hurt me to write her off, but I had no choice. Mother's way was the only way, always. What did Andromeda expect me to do? Turn my back on Mother? On Bella?"

"Bellatrix wants me dead," said Tonks. "Doesn't she?"

"Bellatrix…" Narcissa paused to sip her wine, then used her free hand to twirl her (shorter than it had been) hair. "Bellatrix wishes to please the Dark Lord."

"And you don't?" Tonks challenged her. "Why did you warn my mother?"

"I warned her because she's my sister," whispered Narcissa. Tonks couldn't hear her, though, over the rising cacophony of sounds in the bar, thus was about to ask her to repeat what she'd said when Lupin approached from behind.

"Snape!" Lupin exclaimed, pulling out his wand. He looked less shabby than usual, presumably dressed up for the New Year, but his eyes were more tired and weary than the last time Severus had seen him.

"Put that thing away," sneered Severus, his gaze darting down to the wand. "We're in the presence of Muggles and you won't be needing it."

"What are you doing here?" asked Lupin, slowly sliding his wand back into his inside jacket pocket. They, too, were dressed like Muggles for the evening, he in a white shirt and chinos, she in a blue maternity top and black pants. Tugging at the sides of her skirt, Narcissa wondered if they felt as awkward in such attire as she did.

"We're here drinking alcohol, Lupin, because this is a bar and that's what bar patrons do in bars. What are _you_ doing here?"

"We were hoping to have a nice, safe evening out," answered Tonks. She lightly touched Severus' left forearm, which was covered by his shirt and jacket. "We weren't expecting to run into a pair of Death Eaters." She glanced at Narcissa's arm, which was also covered by her coat and blouse.

"For the record," said Narcissa coldly, rolling up her left sleeve to show them her bare skin. "I am not now, nor have I ever been, a Death Eater."

Tonks and Lupin looked to Severus. He shrugged. "You both know I bear the Dark Mark, so I'm not sure why you're staring at me, unless you'd really like to see it."

"No thank you," said Lupin. "Allow me to rephrase my earlier question. What are you doing here, together?"

Narcissa and Severus exchanged a glance. Without realizing she was doing it, Narcissa resumed twirling her hair.

"Are you aware that Fenrir has been appealing to other werewolves with increasing frequency?" Severus asked Lupin, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. Lupin sized him up before replying.

"We are monitoring the situation," said Lupin, "But there is only so much we can do… given that You-Know-Who can provide opportunities and make concessions to them that we are not willing to."

With a sideways glance at Narcissa, Severus pulled Lupin slightly aside. What he said next, Narcissa couldn't hear, but she did catch Tonks' next words.

"My mother asked me what I thought it meant, that you came to warn her, to send my father on the run. She was afraid that you were tricking her, trying to trap him, but that doesn't seem to have been the case."

"I warned her because she's my sister. We were never all that close and, as you said, we hadn't spoken in over twenty years – twenty-five – but we're still blood, and that must count for something, right? We… we went through a lot together as children. I'm genuinely sorry for the way things… the way things ended up between us. But she made her choices and I made mine."

"I know about your stepfather," said Tonks. She glanced nervously at Lupin and Severus, who were now deep in conversation. "My husband does not."

"I can't talk about that," said Narcissa. She downed the rest of her wine, hoping it would quell the cold feeling inside her.

"I don't know… I don't know _why_ you warned my mother," said Tonks. "But I don't buy that sisterhood is the reason, or, at least, not the whole reason. I also don't know why Draco was assigned to kill Dumbledore, but I do know he wasn't able to do it…" her eyes darted toward Severus, then back to meet Narcissa's. "Potter witnessed what happened in the Astronomy Tower."

"So?" asked Narcissa, afraid to say more, sure her voice would shake with nerves.

"You could defect, Narcissa. The Order could hide you and Draco."

Narcissa laughed, wishing she had more wine to drink. "Hide us? Please. The Order is neither strong enough nor secure enough to hide us from my sister Bella, never mind from the Dark Lord himself. Even if we wanted to defect… and I'm certainly not saying we do, I'm speaking hypothetically… there would be no way to escape with our lives. It's impossible. But if ever _you_ wish to switch sides - to turn your back on your husband and your father and embrace your mother's side of the family - the Dark Lord has made it clear He would welcome a Metamorph."

"I would never," said Tonks. "I don't see how anyone could."

"People find they can do a lot of things they never thought they could when faced with the possibility of losing all that's important to them. We're at war, Nymphadora, as you well know, and to be perfectly honest, the only outcome I care about is the one in which my son and I are still alive in the end. Who wins isn't of much concern to me beyond that. You're going to be a mother soon, you'll see."

"No," said Tonks, backing away slightly. "I won't. Because I know what sort of world I want my child to grow up in, and if I have to die to ensure that's the world he's left with, I'd gladly give my life."

"How very Gryffindor of you," said Narcissa, thinking that her niece and her sister Bellatrix seemed to be more alike in their ideals than either would ever wish to admit.

"I was a Hufflepuff, actually."

Narcissa's cold façade broke as she smiled, which Tonks almost found even more unnerving. "Were you? That's… interesting. There's never been a Hufflepuff in the Black or Rosier families before. Slytherins, a smattering of Ravenclaws, and, of course, our one unfortunate Gryffindor, Sirius, but never a Hufflepuff."

"Narcissa would've been the first," said Severus. He handed Narcissa another class of wine, swapping it out for the empty glass in her hand, which he passed over to a busboy walking by. She realized she hadn't even seen him return to the bar, she'd been so immersed in conversation with her sister's only daughter.

"What do you mean?" asked Tonks.

"The Hat wanted to put her in Hufflepuff because she's loyal, dedicated, and fiercely protective, but she insisted she'd rather die so she ended up in Slytherin like your mother," explained Severus. "Didn't she tell you?"

"No, I hadn't told her, but thanks so much for doing it for me," said Narcissa, as she shot Severus a look of pure loathing that, for some reason, brought an uncharacteristic grin to his face.

"Perhaps we do have something in common, then," said Tonks, smiling cheerfully, glad for the diffusion of tension. "We're both loyal, dedicated, and protective."

"But of different causes and ideals," said Lupin, sliding his arm around his wife's waist.

"I suppose that means we've found ourselves at an impasse," said Narcissa, glancing at Severus, who was on his second scotch.

"It's alright," said Tonks with a brightness that belied the topic at hand. "It's New Year's Eve, right? Five minutes to midnight. So as long as we can set aside our differences for the rest of 1997, we're doing okay, aren't we? Let's just enjoy tonight. We can resume killing each other tomorrow."

"I'm not in the mood to kill anyone," said Narcissa, but she couldn't help a small smile from forming. "But even if I were, I think I could hold for at least for the rest of this year."

"A temporary truce, then," said Severus. Tonks put out her hand and he shook it. "Despite her clumsiness, which you've yet to witness, Narcissa, Nymphadora was one of the few Hufflepuffs who proved herself worthy of taking my class through to her NEWT exams."

"Call me Tonks," she insisted, at the same time Lupin said, "She had to, in order to be an Auror."

For the next four and a half minutes, Severus almost felt as though he'd stumbled down the rabbit hole from a Muggle classic he'd read once as a child, Alice's Something or Other. The world was backwards, upside down, chimerical even, as he pleasantly prepared to ring in the New Year with his former pupil-turned-adversary, the third wheel of the bullies who'd tormented him through school, and the wife if his longtime best friend, a woman with whom he was having an affair, by the bar of a crowded restaurant in Muggle London.

If this was any indication of the way 1998 would go, he wasn't certain he could handle it.

The bar patrons loudly began counting down when there were ten seconds left to go, as rowdy drunks on New Year's Eve are wont to do.

"Three… two… one… Happy New Year!"

Tonks immediately threw her arms around Lupin's neck, kissing him soundly. Uncomfortably, Severus glanced at Narcissa.

"You're not going to kiss me?" she asked, rubbing the fabric of his jacket between her thumb and forefinger, pulling him closer.

"Are you mental? In front of them?"

"We're already here together," she pointed out. She sipped down the last of her wine. "What do you think they think?"

Tonks and Lupin were still attached at the lips, completely wrapped up in each other, not paying anyone else any mind, much like all the other couples in the place. They weren't aware of anything else around them.

"Alright," Severus conceded. "But quickly."

"Fine." She moved her hand to the back of his head under his hair and guided him to her, kissing him three times gently, letting the third last longer than he'd probably intended when he'd said "quickly."

When they parted, it was to realize Tonks and Lupin were staring at them.

"So… how long has this been going on?" asked Tonks, a twinkle in her eye… which was now blue. She was no longer Asian looking, the freckles were gone, and her hair was purple. Literally her entire appearance, save for the baby bump, had changed in the seconds Narcissa wasn't looking at her. It was… disconcerting.

"How long has what been going on?" Severus asked, stalling for time.

"You mean our affair?" asked Narcissa. She didn't have to look at Severus to know he was now giving her the same Look he'd had on his face when she'd told her husband she was planning to spend the night 'drinking with' him, 'in bed before midnight.' She smiled slyly. "Only since my husband died last week."

"Lucius Malfoy is dead?" asked Lupin, shocked.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up, as if praying for strength.

"Lucius is _not_ dead," he said.

"Oh…" Narcissa giggled, unable to help herself (the five glasses of wine she'd had between dinner, the show, and the bar may have impacted that, as the last one finally hit her). "I forgot."

"We should go," said Severus. "Before Narcissa tells you any more tall tales to bring straight back to the Order. I know we can't _expect_ your discretion, but…"

"For warning my mother," said Tonks, taking Narcissa's hand. "We won't say a word. Not even to her. And you'll consider us even?"

"Fair enough," agreed Narcissa. "Now, to be on opposite sides again."

Lupin nodded. He held out his hand. "Snape."

"Lupin."

And they shook.

And it was as surreal a moment as the rest of the last hour had been.

"Good night," said Narcissa. She and Severus made their way through the crowd to the door. One they were outside, Severus yanked Narcissa around to the side of the building by her wrist, the one on which she wore her new bracelet.

"Let's get out of here," he said. "It may not be safe." He put his arm around her, she closed her eyes, and they disapparated.

They appeared in an alleyway in a much deader part of London… at least, Narcissa was reasonably certain they were still in London.

"Well, that was certainly interesting," said Narcissa. "The last time I saw my niece she was eleven, shopping for her Hogwarts things with Andromeda in Diagon Alley. We didn't speak, but Draco – he was three – he saw her curly green hair and yelled, 'Mummy, I want green hair! I want my green hair!' and she and Andromeda looked at us… Part of me, a little part of me, wanted to say something to her, anything, but Mother was still alive then, and if she knew… I was always a little afraid of Mother. I never wanted to cross her – or worse, disappoint her."

"Your mother didn't deserve you," said Severus, his arms still wrapped around her.

"Nymphadora seems pleasant enough. Probably more so when she's not catching up with an estranged relative who's married to a Death Eater and her secret date, a former professor who killed Hogwarts' beloved Headmaster."

"I always liked her," said Severus. Narcissa took in a sharp breath, as if in pain. "What?"

"Is she… she isn't… your… the 'just a friend'… it's not my niece…?"

"No! No, for fuck's sake, no. I liked her because she was one of the few people in the Order with whom I could have a conversation, but there was never anything… _anything_ between us. She's too young for me, for one thing."

"She's not much younger than my cousin and you hopped into bed with _her_ … plus Nymphadora's married to that werewolf, and he's your age, so obviously she doesn't discriminate based on…"

"Narcissa!" He put a finger to her lips, the way she'd done to him when she said he talked too much. "Shh. I assure you, I have never had, nor would I ever have, sex with your niece. If you must know, my 'just a friend' is… don't laugh…"

"Her name is Don't Laugh?"

As was often the case, he couldn't discern whether she was being cheeky or just dense, but he fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"My 'friend' is Septima Vector. She's a professor…"

"She was Bella's professor!" Narcissa cracked up at this. "She was Bella's _favorite_ professor! She's that strict, no-nonsense woman who teaches Arithmancy! That's who you've been… for the past ten years… Professor Vector?" She laughed so hard tears stung her eyes. "Oh, don't pout, Severus. I'm sorry to laugh, but… but you _do_ have a thing for older women! What is she, fifty? She's got to be _at least_ fifty! Fifty-five, even? Is she sixty?"

" _You're_ awfully close to fifty to find this so funny," he said, but she was too far gone for his little barb to bother her.

"I never would have guessed!" she exclaimed. "Never would have suspected… never would have assumed… seventy-year-old Professor Vector!"

"She's fifty-three, not seventy," said Severus. "But she's aged quite well…"

"Bellatrix _adored_ her! This is killing me."

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," he said, wiping her cheeks with his gloved hand.

"Oh, darling!" She placed her own gloved hands on his cheeks and kissed him sweetly on the lips. "Don't be put out, please. I think it's fine. I'd rather learn you've slept with a one-hundred-and-two-year-old professor friend than with my niece or my cousin or my sister or a fellow Death Eater's wife, so this is actually a relief."

"She's fifty-three, not one-hundred-and-two, and you're completely mental," he said, but he kissed her back. "It's late. We should get you home."

"We should," she agreed. She clutched the front of his jacket, pressing her body flush against his. "First, you should kiss me goodbye."

"I never manage to stop at kissing you goodbye," he said. She smiled wickedly.

"I know, darling, that's why I ask it of you."

For several seconds they stared at each other, unmoving, contemplating their next move. Then, as if propelled together by an unseen force, they held each other and kissed and kissed more passionately than they'd been able to get away with in months. His lips moved from hers to her cheek to her jaw to her chin as she held tightly onto him.

"Severus," she whispered as he sucked on the spot where her neck met her shoulder. "Have you ever had sex outside?"

"I tried to once," he said. "But there was snow on the ground so she whined that her back was getting all wet. It was awhile ago, though. Can't remember her name, but I think she was pretty."

"You insufferable jackass, that was me, on your last birthday."

"Was it?" he asked, feigning forgetfulness. "It's been so long, I can't be certain."

"Allow me to refresh your memory," she said, pulling him further into the dark, empty alleyway, away from the street. "I was on my back, you were on top of me, you were touching me here…" She guided his hand between her legs, "And we were kissing."

"This might be familiar…" With one hand on her waist, he used the other to removed his wand from his pocket, touching its tip first to her jacket and then to his (using the warming spell he'd used outside the Shrieking Shack). Then he waved the wand once toward the entrance of the alleyway, muttering an incantation. A shiny film appeared there, as if they were now viewing the street beyond through a soap bubble.

"What's that?"

"If any Muggles approach, they'll suddenly remember someplace else they need to be and hurry off."

"I like the way you think," she said, pulling him down into another kiss. His hands immediately went to her jacket, untying it, and then began nimbly unbuttoning each button of her blouse. When that, too, was completely open, he ran his strong hands over her chest, pulled down then front of her camisole so that one breast was exposed to the cold, and then, to her surprise, he lifted her up, her back scraping against the hard, gray wall of the building, and pinned her there. He took her nipple into his mouth as he'd fantasized about doing in her kitchen on Christmas and she couldn't help but moan. She wrapped her legs more tightly around his waist, eyes closed. He flicked his tongue over the tiny, hard pebble in the center, eliciting from her another moan. She scraped her fingernails lightly along the back of his head and neck, urging him to continue, and whispered his name.

"Severus… yes…"

Just when she thought she couldn't take any more teasing from his tongue he set her back down, his lips moving to her neck as her fingers undid his belt. She slipped one hand into his Muggle trousers and began stroking him, until it was he who couldn't take the teasing any longer. He shoved up her skirt, placed one hand on her bare leg just above the top seam of her thigh-high stockings, shoved her knickers roughly aside with his other hand, and began fucking her with two fingers.

"Are you certain you wish to do this?" he asked, not ceasing his ministrations.

"Yes…" she replied breathlessly, on the edge of orgasm. "Yes, please… Severus… now…"

That was all the encouragement he needed. He entered her, lifted her up again with her back against the wall, and began to thrust.

Though the spell kept them feeling warm, their mouths emitted white puffs of cold air whenever their lips parted. Narcissa could feel scrapes forming against her back, even through the coat and blouse, as her body moved flush against the rough wall. She wondered whether this would leave a mark, but ultimately did not care.

"Harder…" she murmured, as he sucked on the skin covering her collarbone. In response he squeezed her thighs, plunging more deeply into her, speeding up at the same time.

"Okay, it's okay..." she said, anxiously talking herself through as if taking a difficult exam, as usual. "Okay… good… fine…"

"Narcissa?" He stopped moving.

"Yes?"

"Relax."

"Relax?"

He kissed her, lightly, then, with his lips a mere whisper away from hers, he said it again.

"Relax."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching the white cloud dissipate over his shoulder. "Okay," she said quietly. "I'm relaxed."

"Good." He resumed his movements and within seconds she climaxed, biting down hard his shoulder to keep from crying out. Her animalistic reaction had a profound effect on him, as he exploded inside her, unable to hold back any longer.

Even after they were done, when he'd set her down, when their clothes were fixed and the warming spell was wearing off, he kept his arms around her, kissing her, breathing in the sweet strawberry scent of her hair, and wishing he had someplace to take her back to so they wouldn't have to say goodbye just yet.

"I'm grateful for every new experience with you," she whispered, feeling satisfied but scared, and confused, yet content. "I don't want what we have to end."

"So long as we're careful, it doesn't have to," he said. She smiled. Her eyes shown like silver in the moonlight. His hair fell dramatically across his face as he leaned in to gently kiss her. She pushed his hair back, and, keeping her gentle hand on his cheek, returned the kiss.

It was January first.

It was well past midnight.

It was starting to snow again.

"I really ought to be getting home," she whispered. "Draco may still be awake, and I don't know when to expect Lucius."

"I really ought to be returning to Hogwarts," he replied. "I can only imagine what sort of shenanigans the students have managed to get themselves into in my absence."

"When will I see you again?"

"I don't know. Soon."

She held more tightly onto him. "No matter how soon, it's not soon enough."

"It will have to be. I'll apparate you to the grounds of Malfoy Manor, but must immediately disapparate from there. We can't get caught. It's too dangerous."

"I know."

"Are you ready?"

"I am."

So they did.

As he'd said he would, he disapparated as soon as they'd reached Malfoy Manor and were no longer touching. The warming spell had now completely warn off, and Narcissa was suddenly all-too aware of the freezing air around her, which gave her goose-bumps. By the time she got inside the Manor, her teeth were chattering. She hurried to her bedroom, relieved not to meet anyone in the hall… not relieved to find her bed was already occupied.

"Bellatrix! What are you doing?!"

"I need you," said Bella. She sounded weak, depressed, perhaps even more so than she had just over a week earlier, after she'd been viciously punished.

"What's wrong? Where's Lucius?"

"That smarmy Mother Fucker? Who cares? Cissy, _I need you_." Bellatrix started to cry.

"I… oh, Bella! What's wrong?"

Narcissa threw off her coat, the one she'd borrowed from her sister without permission, and knelt beside her on the bed. Bellatrix was crying so hard she gave herself the hiccups, which made it hard to get her next words out.

"Have you ever been in love with - _hiccup_ \- with someone and… and… and - _hiccup_ \- no matter how much you love them, or how much - _hiccup-_ you do for them or give to them, they... - _hiccup_ \- they're never going to love you back? Have you ever _-hiccup_ \- loved someone who won't love you, Cissy?"

Severus' face at the play flashed before Narcissa's mind eye, but she forced herself not to think of him.

"Why do you ask?"

"I've done everything I can, everything I've been asked to do, and for - _hiccup_ \- what?"

"I…" Narcissa was at a loss. Pregnancy seemed to have changed her oldest sister far more than going to Azkaban had. It made her softer. More emotional. More full of self-doubt. It was unnerving. "I don't know?"

For several minutes, Bellatrix cried and Narcissa soothed her, until the elder Black sister was again able to speak.

"Hortensia Higgins came here tonight without her husband and the Dark Lord took her to bed. I think she's still here. I waited in the parlor for hours but I didn't see her leave. Finally I gave up waiting and came to your room. Cissy, what could He possibly see in that status-seeking trollop? She's not even pretty. Do you think she's pretty?"

"No, Bella, I don't think she's pretty."

"Nor do I. But it's not like I'm pretty at the moment either. Look at me, Cissy! My face still looks like it's been beating away Bludgers. I'm… gaining so much weight. Every damn day I've gained more weight. My back is sore, my chest hurts, my ankles are swollen, I can't sleep, I'm starving all the time, and I've got this weird tingling sensation in my hands. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you, Bella." Narcissa interlaced her fingers with her sister's, settling more comfortably beside her. "You're pregnant. That's what happens when you're pregnant. I don't know what to tell you about that horrid Hortensia but everything else you've listed is a perfectly normal side effect of being pregnant."

"I don't think I want to be pregnant. Rodolphus and Rabastan and some of the others went out tonight to round up and torment Muggles, you know, to celebrate the New Year, and I wanted to go but the Dark Lord said I couldn't go. I feel like a child, grounded for bad behavior. I can't do anything. I can't even question the Lovegood girl and she's right down in the dungeon! It's not fair. I hate it!"

"You're whining," said Narcissa. She kissed the back of Bella's hand. "It's alright. I whined all through the latter half of my pregnancy too. But it's worth it, trust me, when your baby is born and you hold him – or her – and he's tiny and perfect and precious and yours."

"Why Hortensia?" asked Bellatrix mournfully. She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her dress, which looked uncomfortably tight across her midsection. "He's the damned Dark Lord, Narcissa! He could have any woman He wants! Any! And any woman would be better than that hideous iguana-faced hussy." (Narcissa couldn't help snickering over the descriptor 'iguana-faced hussy.') "He could have had _you!_ I'd be less upset if He wanted you!"

"I wouldn't!" said Narcissa, repulsed. "And do me a favor, Bella, if ever you and He decide to have a chat about… about which women He can have… leave my name out, alright?"

"I wouldn't offer you up, Cissy! I'm simply saying… I just mean… What the fuck could He possibly see in that leg-spreading brain-dead bubble-nosed troll?!"

"Let's get you back to your room and into your nightgown," said Narcissa. She coaxed her sister to her feet. Once they were in Bella's room, Narcissa picked out something for her to wear to bed, helped her put it on, brushed her hair, and tucked her in… like any good mother would. "I think you'll have to send me shopping for a few things for you, if you're not allowed out," she said as she pulled the covers up to Bella's chin, the way she liked. "Your dress was too tight. It made red marks on your stomach. You need maternity clothes."

"Won't that look suspicious? You buying maternity clothes?"

Narcissa shrugged and perched herself on the end of the bed. "Looks more suspicious if you're the one doing it. I could be shopping for a friend. You don't have friends." She said this with a smile, which made Bella's pout become more pronounced.

"You're a bitch."

"Love you, too."

"Will you stay with me awhile?" asked Bellatrix as Narcissa rose to go.

"Sure," she said. Though she didn't mean to, she eventually fell asleep beside her sister. When she awoke, sunlight was starting to stream through the window. She hurried back to the master bedroom to shower, change, and climb into her own bed with her husband, worried that Lucius wouldn't believe her explanation about having been in her sister's room all that time, but when she opened the door, she discovered their bed was still empty. So she showered, changed, and crawled under the covers alone. It was now half-past six in the morning.

Lucius hadn't even bothered coming home.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know I'd said I was going to return to posting daily from Monday on, but each chapter now is more than twice as long as the earlier ones, so it'll be more like every-other-day for the duration of this fic. We're now only four months away from the Final Battle (sob!) and so much has yet to happen! Thanks for reading, following, adding to faves, and/or for leaving reviews. You make me so happy! {wipes away tear} **-AL**


	23. January 17, 1998

**Chapter Twenty-three – January 17** **th** **, 1998**

In the sixteen days that had passed since New Year's, Severus and Narcissa had returned to writing each other in their enchanted notebooks on a daily basis, but unlike last time, the bulk of their messages didn't belong in the gutter.

 _More rain. As of today, it has been raining for two weeks straight. Snow would be better. Students are dripping all over the castle. This morning I slipped in a puddle on my way to the Great Hall for breakfast and nearly threw my back out. Thankfully, the only witness was the Bloody Baron, who glared my way as if my pain were an inconvenience for him, or an embarrassment for Slytherin. Have you been keeping busy? –SS_

 _It's been raining here too. I went shopping in Diagon Alley yesterday, to buy maternity dresses for Bella. They make a new style of robes that are bewitched to grow as the pregnant woman grows. Wish this existed when I was expecting Draco. Even though I was only allotted two hours of free time, it was nice to get out of Malfoy Manor. I've been cooped up with my sister all year. –NM_

 _All year? It's been sixteen days. –SS_

 _Do you think_ _you_ _could spend sixteen full days cooped up with my sister? –NM_

 _You've got me. I could not. I would go madder than she is. But surely it isn't just the two of you? –SS_

 _No. My husband, her husband, Rabastan, the Dark Lord, the Rowles, Ollivander, and the Lovegood girl are all here all the time too, but none of them make great company at the moment. –NM_

 _He's still holding the Lovegood girl? Good. Between you and me, I was worried about what might happen to her after the attempt to catch Potter at her father's home failed. –SS_

 _The Dark Lord believes she could still be useful. The Prophet reported that her father is in Azkaban now. –NM_

 _Do you have any contact with the prisoners? –SS_

 _I offered to cook for them but Bella said the Dark Lord wants us to keep them alive, so if they need to be tortured, she'll do it with the Cruciatus instead. –NM_

 _That's funny. –SS_

 _It is NOT funny. –NM_

 _It IS funny. –SS_

 _I hate you. –NM_

 _No, you don't. –SS_

 _Fine, I don't. –NM_

"You've been scribbling away in that notebook for weeks. What are you writing?"

"Lucius!" Narcissa jumped. She'd been so engrossed in her latest 'conversation' with Severus, she hadn't even heard him enter the bedroom. She jumped again when he threw the snake headed walking stick against the wall. It clattered to the floor.

"What's wrong?" Hoping he'd forget about the notebook, she slipped it back into her side table drawer, which she kept locked with a password. "Darling?"

"Give me your wand."

She paled. "My wand? Why?"

"Why? Because I don't have one. Because the Dark Lord took mine and subsequently got it destroyed by Potter. I've been working with borrowed wands ever since and I'm bloody well sick of not having one that truly obeys me."

"What makes you think mine will?"

"You're my wife. You are required to obey me, so logic dictates your wand should obey me."

"I…" her eyes darted down to her wand, which was lying beside her on the bed. She couldn't give him her wand. She needed her wand. She couldn't read Severus' responses in their notebook without her wand. She couldn't defend herself or apparate or…

"Give it to me," said Lucius, putting out his hand.

"I… Lucius…" She picked up the wand, holding tight to the silver-studded black handle, trying to come up with a way to convince him hers wasn't the wand he needed. "Lucius…"

"Narcissa, give me your wand."

She bit her lip, clutching the wand even more tightly.

"Narcissa Malfoy!" Lucius looked confused, angry… and hurt. "Are you not my wife?"

"I am."

"And did you not vow to honor and obey me?"

"I did."

"Well? I require your wand."

 _I require your wand._

Those were the exact same words the Dark Lord had used when He'd taken Lucius' heirloom wand, and now Lucius was turning around and using them on his wife.

"Narcissa!"

"No," she whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"No, Lucius. You may not have my wand. It's mine."

"It's yours?" He seemed genuinely perplexed. "The wand is yours, but you are mine, and I need a wand, and you have a wand… I don't understand what the problem is. You don't need it. I do. Give it to me."

"No. It's mine."

"It's… yours?"

"Yes, darling." She climbed out of bed, crossed the bedroom to him, and kissed his stubbly cheek. "I understand how upset you are to be without a wand of your own. Somewhere in the attic we must have your mother's old one, right? I don't know why I didn't think of that before. I'll go up this afternoon and search for it."

"You'll do no such thing."

"I'll send Squeakers."

"Who?"

"The house elf. She can find it."

"I want yours."

"No."

Lucius grabbed Narcissa by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. The tip of her wand pressed uncomfortably between her shoulder blades.

"I understand that you spent an entire year as head of household during my unfortunate incarceration and I understand that it has been more unorthodox living with the Dark Lord under our roof. Perhaps you have therefore forgotten who you are, and who I am. Allow me to remind you…"

"Lucius…"

"Quiet. I am the king of this castle, so to speak. I am the patriarch. I am the husband, and you are the wife, and when I ask you for something, you give it. Understand?"

"I understand."

"Then I require your wand." He released her, stepped back, and again held out his hand.

She rubbed her wrist, sat on the edge of the bed, and placed her wand in her lap. "No. You can't have it, Lucius. It's mine."

He threw up his hands. "It's as if we don't even know each other anymore!"

"Perhaps that's because I've been stuck sitting at home writing in a notebook and cooking terrible food while you're off gallivanting-"

"It's not your business what I'm off doing," he interjected.

"Around the UK, sleeping with girls half your age-"

"It's not your business who I'm sleeping with!"

"And generally forgetting that you have a home and a son and a wife-"

"I have not forgotten-"

"A wife who's sick of waking up alone because her husband can't remember that he's married."

"You think _I_ can't remember that I'm married? I'm not the one refusing to _honor and obey_!"

"That's because you didn't have to honor and obey! That's only in the witch's part of the marriage vows, remember?" She stood up, leaving her wand discarded on the bed, and squared off against him. "So, sure, yes, I _did_ promise to honor and obey you, but _you,_ Lucius! _You_ promised to be _faithful_ to me, so my apologies, _Master Malfoy_ , but I assumed that – despite the twenty-six years that have past since we exchanged them – our vows no longer have _any_ significant meaning for either of us!"

Lucius backed away as if she'd slapped him. Narcissa's cheeks were splotchy and red, her hands were clenched into fists, and her entire upper body was trembling with nearly two decades of pent up fury. Her wand lay discarded on the bed. His eyes darted from her fists, to her wand, and then to her face. She braced herself for his response, which was sure to be far nastier than her outburst had been, but to her surprise his shoulders slumped, as if all the air had been let out of his chest, and he nodded in what looked like resignation.

"You're right. I shouldn't have asked you. Go back to your writing." He walked toward the door, letting his long blond hair fall across his face, clearly wounded by her words.

"Lucius, wait."

He ignored her.

"Lucius, please!" She grabbed his wrist, but not in the rough, dominating way he'd done to her. "Darling, let's talk."

"I don't believe we have anything to talk about," he said softly. "I'll go."

"No! Lucius, I'm sorry." She was overcome by guilt, a feeling she hated, and would do anything to make it go away. Well, almost anything. "I… I don't want to give you my wand, okay? I… I'm already so afraid, living here, living with… surrounded by… under the constant threat of… you know."

"I know."

"It would be worse without my wand, darling." She pushed his hair back behind his ears, letting her hands linger on the sides of his face. Perhaps what it provides me is a false sense of security, but it's a sense of it nonetheless. But I'll help you find one you can use, okay? I promise I will. And I… I'm sorry for what I said… about… about you being unfaithful."

"Don't be sorry." He took her hands in his, lowering but not releasing them. "It's the truth. I have not been faithful to you."

"Why?" she whispered, the pain palpable in her voice. "What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you," he assured her. He was still holding her hands. He brought them together, then up to his lips, and kissed her knuckles.

"You don't love me anymore." She was tempted to add, _"And I'm not sure whether I still love you,"_ but thought better of it.

"I do love you!" He released her hands, moving his to her waist instead. "I'm always going to love you. I've told you before, it's not about that. There are things…"

"Things you can't do with me because you respect me."

He nodded. She scoffed.

"If you really respected me you wouldn't do those things, whatever they may be, with other women."

"Narcissa…"

She pressed closer to him. "I could do… whatever it is."

 _What are you doing, Narcissa?_ she asked herself. _Are you throwing yourself at your cheating husband? Why? What's the point? Do you even_ want _him?_

"You can't," said Lucius. He buried his face in her hair, taking a deep breath, inhaling her shampoo, the same strawberry shampoo she'd been using since they were at Hogwarts, the familiar scent he smelled just two days before asking her out for the first time, when he was a Sixth year potions student who'd just brewed Amortentia, took a whiff, and thought, 'This smells like that Third year from the Slug Club.'

"I could try…" Unable to stop herself, and unsure of why she was doing it, she began to divest him of his Wizard's robe, then made to remove his shirt and trousers.

Still feeling confused, but more pleasantly so, he responded by slipping her white, cotton nightdress over her head and running his hands up and down the smooth skin of her back.

"How long as it been?" he asked, lowering her onto the bed.

"Over three weeks." She guided him on top of her. They were lying across the middle of the bed, so their legs hung over the sides, but neither seemed to mind.

"That's too long." Lucius covered Narcissa's mouth with his own, kissing her in his usual erratic way. It felt strange – even though she and Severus had hardly seen each other since their late summer split, she'd gotten used to his more sensual style. Lucius moaned. "Narcissa... you're lovely..."

"What do they do?" Narcissa asked as Lucius kissed down her side, from her shoulder, to her ribcage, to her hip… "These… these girls you like… what do they do that I can't?"

"Don't worry about it Narcissa," her murmured. He kissed her thigh. She shifted uncomfortably, longing for him to do to her what Severus did so well… to kiss her _there_ … to use his mouth on her... but he just kissed back up her other side, from her thigh, to her hip, to her ribcage, to her shoulder…

"You can tell me not to worry about it but I _am_ worried about it. Lucius… Lucius, stop."

He propped himself up so there was more space between them and regarded her carefully, quizzically. "What?"

"I want to… I want… I…" She pressed her palms against his shoulders and flipped him gently onto his back, climbing half on top of him. "I want this." She kissed his lips. "And I want this…" She kissed his throat. "And this…" The center of his chest. "And this…" She placed a trail of kisses down, over his stomach, and lower, taking him in her hand, flicking her tongue over his tip…

"Narcissa, what do you…"

She took him in her mouth and whatever he was going to ask died in his throat. He groaned, entangling his hand in her hair, as she began to suck.

He couldn't stop his hips from bucking as she moved faster, stroking him with her hand and her tongue. She brought him to near-completion, pausing only to ask him a question.

"Is this one of those things, Lucius? Is this one of those things you think I can't do? Is this one of those things that will make you lose respect for me?"

"Oh, fuck, Narcissa," he moaned. "Don't stop."

"Answer me. Will you lose respect for me if I keep doing this?"

"I... Just… I don't know..." He guided her back down. "Just keep going… please…"

She resumed orally pleasuring him, faster and faster, as he, without intending to, lost control and pulled her hair.

"Ow!"

"Sorry! Come here…" He moved her up over him, her legs on either side of his hip, and entered her. Within a minute, he came hard with her sitting on top of him, then pulled her down so he could kiss her on the lips.

Afterward, he held her, both breathing heavy, for several minutes, wondering what prompted this, but not unhappy about it. Once his body had calmed and his brain had cleared, he said her name.

"Narcissa?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

She kissed his cheek. "I love you, too."

"Good… Can I have your wand?"

She laughed, rolled off him, picked up her wand (which was still on the bed) and pulled on her robe.

"No, darling, you can't. Sorry. I'm going to take a shower."

He nodded, too satiated to argue. "Damn."

After her shower, Narcissa dressed, put on a minimal amount of makeup, and headed to the dining room for lunch. Rodolphus, Lucius, and the Rowles were already present, crowded around the far end of the table, deep in conversation. Bellatrix was the only one already seated, arms crossed, pouting like a toddler.

"Narcissa," Rabastan greeted her, entering a moment after she did. "The house elves are preparing lunch for seventeen." Catching the confusion on her face, he explained, "The Dark Lord has requested the presence of many of His senior Death Eaters while we eat."

Just then, Hortensia Higgins, her husband (Rocco Pyrites), Yaxley from the Ministry, and Juliet Rosier entered.

"Oh, good, we're not late," said Juliet. She smiled at Narcissa. "Hello, cousin. I hope you had a nice Christmas."

"I did," said Narcissa. "Did you?"

"Oh, you know…" Juliet waved a hand dismissively. "With Zillah in America and my parents dead, Christmas was rather dull for me." She glanced across the room at Lucius, who was speaking to the Rowles and hadn't noticed her yet. A devilish smile found her lips. "But New Year's Eve was exceptional."

"Was it?" Narcissa, of course, realized her cousin was needling her, but given her own New Year's experience, this didn't bother her a bit. "As was mine. I'd ask you how you spent yours, but to be honest, I really must go sit down. I've had an exhausting morning… my husband was simply _insatiable_ … Someday, if ever you get married, you'll learn how it is, when you have to be available to your spouse no matter what. Not that I mind."

Juliet's mouth dropped open. Narcissa smirked. She made her way over to the empty seat beside Bellatrix, who was drumming her fingers anxiously on the table.

"Hello, Cissy. Do you have a cigarette?"

"No," said Narcissa, keeping her voice low. "I don't smoke, and neither do you. Are you even permitted to be here, Bella? You know He doesn't want others to realize that you're… you know."

"I know. But He said it was mandatory. He also told me to arrive before anyone else and to sit down and stay sitting and to wear loose-fitting robes – which is why I'm so hideously dressed – and not to stand or move around or talk too loud or draw attention to myself in any way for any reason, because apparently I am three-year-old and cannot handle myself in public without a vigorous 'talking to' first."

"But at least you're not bitter," said Narcissa. Her sister ignored this.

"Do you see her, Cissy, over there…?"

Narcissa followed Bellatrix's gaze. "Hortensia?"

"She should shorten her name and go by Hor." Bella snickered. "Get it? H-o-r, but it sounds like whore?"

"Yeah, I've got it." Narcissa couldn't help snickering too. "You're awful. I adore you."

"Thank you. Meanwhile, that cunt over there has been screwing your husband," said Bella. Now she was glaring at Juliet, who was standing beside Lucius, waiting for him to notice her.

"I'm aware."

"He doesn't seem to be terribly interested in her at the moment, though. Good. I don't care if we're related. Fuck that little bitch." Bella tossed her wild hair back and blew air out her nose, which reminded Narcissa of a disgruntled horse. She raised an eyebrow.

"You're clearly in a combative mood, Bella. What's wrong?"

"You know what's wrong, Cissy! I'm useless. I don't know why He's gathered us here today but I'm certain He will hand out jobs and tasks of great importance to every other Death Eater in the dining room and they'll all hurry off to better places and I'll be stuck here, alone, locked in my bedroom… _incubating_."

"Sorry," said Narcissa, who was at a loss for anything to add. Narcissa twirled her hair and studied her husband, who was now chatting with Juliet. Bellatrix crossed her arms and resumed pouting. They did not speak.

As usual, Severus was the last to arrive. Narcissa's heart gave a little jolt when she spotted him. He nodded to her from across the room and she couldn't fight the blush that crept up into her cheeks. She had to look away.

 _Clear your mind. Brick wall. Blue ocean. Clear your mind._

"Take your seats," hissed the voice of the Dark Lord from the doorway. He settled, of course, at the head of the table. To His left, in order, were Severus, Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Selwyn, and Macnair. Across from them sat Yaxley, Thorfinn Rowle, his wife Euphemia, Hortensia Higgins, her husband Pyrites, Travers, Dolohov, and Juliet Rosier. More women than there'd ever been at any one single Death Eaters inner circle meeting, mentally noted Narcissa. She wondered whether the others – Euphemia and Juliet – had yet received the Dark Mark.

"Before we begin, update us on the status of our prisoners, Lucius," said the Dark Lord. Once they'd finished going over "old business," as the Dark Lord called it, He snapped his fingers, told a house elf they were ready to eat, and promised He would be explaining the primary reason for this gathering once they were done.

"I don't even get to sit beside Him anymore," whispered Bella, as food appeared on plates in front of each other them. "He's got Severus as His right-hand man. Well… left hand, I suppose. Is that a thing? A left-hand man?"

"I honestly don't know, Bella." Narcissa busied herself with buttering bread and dipping it in her soup, desperate for this awkward lunch to be over already. Between Juliet making google-eyes at Lucius, Bellatrix whining and pouting about not being allowed to Torture While Pregnant, Severus sitting two seats away pretending they hardly know each other, and the Dark Lord looming over all of them, His awful snake wrapped around the back of His chair, Narcissa couldn't wait to escape.

And it only got worse. The Dark Lord did indeed plan to send His followers away, in groups, on separate but equally important missions for their cause.

Only four of them would not be going.

Severus, who needed to remain at Hogwarts.

Yaxley, who needed to remain at the Ministry.

Bellatrix, who needed to remain in hiding at Malfoy Manor.

And Narcissa, who wasn't important enough to even warrant a mention.

"Pyrites, Hortensia, Thorfinn, and Euphemia, you will be the third team…"

"Dolohov, Selwyn, Macnair, and Travers, you will be the second team…"

"Rodolphus, Rabastan, Lucius, and Juliet, you will be the first team…"

Both Narcissa and Bellatrix bristled at this, but for different reasons.

"She's on His _first team_?" Bella hissed in her sister's ear. "She joined us less than a year ago! Less than a year! I've given Him an entire lifetime of service and she's first team after under a year? This is completely unfair to me."

"Unfair to _you_?" Cissy whispered back. "What about _me_? The Dark Lord just said He's sending my husband away with that hussy for four straight days _and nights_! She'll probably come back in _your condition_. I hope Draco wants a half-brother, half-cousin. Which will just give credence to Andromeda's claims that all purebloods are borderline inbred."

"Know what, Cissy? I say we wait until the Dark Lord retires to His chambers and then we kill her," whispered Bella, unsheathing her her knife under the table. "You hold her down, I'll slit her throat. Who'll miss the little bitch, really? She hasn't got parents and her sister never liked her. We'll have the house elves bury her in the back garden. Hell, let's make it a mass grave and throw Hortensia in after. Maybe Euphemia too, for good measure. She rubs me the wrong way. Besides, there's been far too much estrogen around here lately, the ranks could use a little thinning out. It would be so easy…" She ran her finger along the blade, drawing blood.

"Merlin's beard, Bella, put that thing away!" Narcissa ordered through clenched teeth. She slapped her sister's hand. Bellatrix resheathed the knife, but her eyes told Narcissa she was still thinking murder might be their best option. Thankfully the Dark Lord was in the middle of giving instructions to His first team and did not notice this exchange.

As soon as lunch and the meeting were done and everyone was dismissed, Lucius headed to the master bedroom to pack for the next four days, as did those who were staying at Malfoy Manor. Yaxley left, presumably to apparate home, and the others hurried off as well, with orders to meet back in an hour ready to leave for the respective tasks.

Bellatrix was supposed to remain sitting until everyone else had gone, so Narcissa kept her company.

"He didn't give you anything to do," said Juliet, feigning sympathy, smiling down at Narcissa. Save for Severus and the Black sisters, everyone else had already gone. "I suppose He doesn't have any _use_ for you. Maybe He did, once, when you were younger, but now…"

Narcissa cut her off. "Now that I'm a wife and mother, I'm too valuable to my husband and son to risk being sent off to die for a cause in a dark forest, is that what you were going to say?"

"Not at all," said Juliet, stone-faced.

For some reason, this caused Bella to break into a fit of giggles.

"What's funny?" asked Juliet. Bellatrix's maniacal laughter could make even the most steel-nerved person nervous.

"What is it?" she asked again, anxiously. "I need to know what you're laughing at!"

The realization she was unnerving the girl made Bella cackle harder, until there were tears streaming liberally from her heavy-lidded eyes.

"Why is she laughing?" Juliet turned to Narcissa, her eyebrows cinched toward the center of her forehead.

"She knows something you don't," explained Narcissa, though the truth was she had no idea what had struck her sister's funny bone. Narcissa grinned. "We both do."

"What? What is it?! Bellatrix Lestrange, I demand you answer me!"

"You!" Bellatrix pointed a bony finger at Juliet. "You demand an answer of me? Ha! Glorious! Little girl, you _are_ amusing. Tell me, regarding Lucius, how is he? Has he improved with age? I wouldn't know because Narcissa thinks it's uncouth to share details but I'm, you know, curious."

"I… what?" Juliet's already pale skin went whiter.

Bellatrix stood, slammed one hand down on the table, and pulled out her knife.

"Listen, Cousin, I don't care if you're fucking my brother-in-law, but quit fucking with my sister. I've seen the looks you give her, I've heard the way you told her about your New Year's. We both knew what you were hinting at, as I'm sure you intended, but you're an idiot if you think Lucius looks at you as anymore more than a willing vagina. His desire to shag you, for the record, honestly doesn't bother me. It doesn't bother either of us, does it Cissy?"

"Uh… no. Doesn't bother us." Narcissa made the mistake of making eye contact with Severus and had to bite her lip in an attempt to remain expressionless.

"But when you're sitting here in my sister's dining room fantasizing about stealing away her husband, that bloody bothers me. Bothers us. Doesn't it, Cissy?"

"Uh... yes. That bothers us."

"I… how do you know…?" Juliet's eyes darted from one sister to the other. She was clearly frightened. "What makes you think…?"

"Your mind is as open as your legs, Jules. Do people call you Jules?" Bellatrix's tone switched abruptly from harsh to sweet. "If I had a daughter and happened to name her Juliet, I'd call her Jules. That's cute, right, Cissy?"

"It's cute," Narcissa agreed, because she knew that's what her sister wanted her to do.

"No one calls me Jules," Juliet started, but Bellatrix interrupted her.

"I do. _I_ call you Jules. That's your name now. Learn to like it. So here's the deal, Jules: you can go on this mission, you can spend four days with my sister's husband, he'll probably want to screw you and you'll probably let him and you can, that's fine, but if you think there's any future there, just ask him about Endora Selwyn. You're too young to remember, but she learned the hard way what happens when a pathetic on-the-side slag tries to steal for a man who's not hers. I won't spoil the ending for you, but suffice it to say... no one's so much as spoken her name for a good fifteen years. So do we have an… understanding?" Bellatrix pressed the tip of the knife against her opposite palm. When she retracted it, there was a spot of blood in the spot where it had punctured her skin. She licked it off. "Well? Do we?"

"Yes," said Juliet quietly, looking more frightened than she ever had in the presence of the Dark Lord. "I understand."

"Good. Enjoy your… mission. Come along, Cissy. We're done here. Snape?"

He raised both eyebrows and pointed to himself, as if to ask, 'You're addressing me?'

"When you get back to Hogwarts, please tell my favorite nephew I said hello."

She turned, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and sauntered from the room. Fortunately Juliet was apparently afraid to look directly at her, so she didn't noticed the curve of her midsection that would reveal her condition to a more observant person.

"Severus, will you be staying for dinner or do you have to hurry back to the school?"

"I have to go back, but before I do, I'd like to speak with you about your sister's favorite nephew." He glanced at Juliet, who was still standing frozen and nauseous looking. "Perhaps in the parlor?"

"Alright, I'll meet you there."

He nodded, bid good day to Juliet, and exited the room. Narcissa was almost to the door when she turned back to face the frozen girl.

"In case Bellatrix hadn't made it clear, you're not his first mistress, Juliet. And you won't be the last. But I am his wife."

"I get it," said Juliet. "Trust me, I get it. Now I have to go. We only have an hour."

"Then go. I wouldn't want you to disappoint the Dark Lord."

Severus was seated in the parlor drinking a glass of scotch when Narcissa entered.

"That was certainly an interesting conversation," he said, rising to kiss her on the cheek. "Your sister is fiercely loyal to you. Perhaps _she_ should have been in Hufflepuff with you and your niece."

"Well, we can't _all_ be in Hufflepuff, Love, somebody has to hold down the Slytherin fort."

His eyes widened, but so subtly most people wouldn't have noticed.

"You can't call me that," he said stoically. "Damn, Narcissa." He took a large gulp of the scotch, as if in a hurry to finish it.

"It's just a word. A term of endearment. It doesn't have to be romantic. I use it for my sister, for my son."

"I am not your sister and I am not your son."

She took the glass from his hand and took a long sip, which burned, then handed it back to him.

"That tastes as awful as I remember. I'm sorry I missed your birthday. I couldn't exactly get away. What did you want to talk about? Is it really about Draco?"

"No. I just wanted to see you alone."

She smiled, already forgetting about her earlier encounter with her husband. "I want so much more than simply to see you."

"Tomorrow is Sunday," he said. "I should be able to get away from Hogwarts, at least for awhile." He downed the rest of the scotch and placed the glass on the end table. "Lucius will have reached his destination by then. No chance he'll return early."

"Right. Only Bellatrix and the Dark Lord will be here. How about if you arrive around two? Then we'll have plenty of time between lunch and dinner." She wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head.

"We'll start with an Occlumency lesson. Your sister knew what Juliet was thinking because she was reading her at the table, but I was reading you."

"Alright," said Narcissa. "You can give me an Occlumency lesson. I'll learn to clear my mind and all that rubbish. And then we can mess around?"

He shrugged noncommittally, but his satisfied smirk revealed his true feelings. "Sure. I suppose. If there's time."

"Until tomorrow, then." She placed a quick, almost chaste kiss on his lips, and hurried toward the door. "I have to say goodbye to Lucius before he leaves. Since I just made such a big deal about the importance of being the wife and all."

"That's fine. I have to return to Hogwarts anyway."

She smiled. "Until tomorrow?"

He smiled back. "Until tomorrow."

* * *

 **A/N:** Review responses. Thanks all! **AL**

 **Shira** – I won't show the actual scene between Bellatrix and Voldemort from  Loyal (Chapter5) in this one since Narcissa wouldn't have witnessed it, but Bella _will_ reveal the details of the thing He bought her later… I don't want to give too much away here, though. It's hard to show the Dark Lord's better side with this one because Narcissa fears/loathes him thus we have to view her sister's POV from her POV, but Bella'll get her reassurance soon, especially when Baby Voldy is born, so don't worry!

 **Half-as-Beautiful** – I hope your 'Lucissa trash' side enjoyed this chapter! I can't make things _too_ easy for Narcissa and Snape, so it doesn't hurt to remind her sometimes that she genuinely does love her husband, however flawed he (and their relationship) may be.

 **Thenuminous** – Thx! Super glad to have you as a new reader!

 **Harry Hobbit, PopularCats, Everything Hurts, Anotherdarkshado, Bla gojevich, Hello, Guest, & Elphaba** – Thank you for continuing to read and review :)


	24. Daytime, January 18, 1998

**A/N:** I don't usually do mid-fic trigger warnings, but this chapter contains a scene depicting the abuse suffered by the Black sisters as children. It is NOT graphic but may be upsetting for some readers. If you think it will bother you, skip to chapter 25, which is more lemony and sweet/fun than chapter 24. Thanks! Hope you all had a Happy Halloween. The twins (age 9) and I made glow-in-the-dark Death Eater masks to represent for the Dark Lord in honor of the 35th anniversary of His first fall. - **AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-four – Daytime, January 18** **th** **, 1998**

He arrived at precisely two, as she'd requested, and they went straight to the parlor.

"Are you sure this wouldn't be better in my bedroom?" asked Narcissa, once she and Severus were seated across from each other in the hard backed chairs.

"I think there will be more distractions in your bedroom. It would be easier to get… carried away."

"I know." She placed a hand on his knee. "I'm counting on it."

Though he couldn't help smiling, he removed her hand and ordered, "Clear your mind."

"What will you be looking for?"

"I'll be looking for you to clear your mind so I can't see or sense anything you don't want me to. If you cannot clear your mind, do as you've done before, and picture a wall or an ocean or a sky. If you think I'm getting too close to something you don't want me to see, you can attempt to force me out, but I warn you, if you were to try that with your sister or the Dark Lord they would likely just search harder, and you'd be no match for either of them. I can also read how you're feeling, so if I ask you a question and you lie, I'll know it, or if you're afraid, I can use that. You've read the beginner's book so you realize that Legilimency isn't merely mind reading. It's much more subtle and complex than that. Which means Occlumency must be as well." He set his wand down on the side table. "I don't need to utter the incantation verbally, make eye contact, or use my wand, which is also true of the Dark Lord and your sister. That said, it is easier if I look at you…"

"I don't like being looked at," she whispered, suddenly very ill at ease.

"I'll only be looking at your eyes."

"Somehow this feels _more_ intimate," she said, as he placed two fingers under her chin, guiding her gaze to his.

"Remember, if you must, you can push a memory to the forefront of your mind to distract me, as you've done to your sister."

"Okay." She squeezed her eyes shut tight. He chuckled.

"Don't be nervous. I won't hurt you."

"Alright."

He had more difficulty exploring her mind than in the past, which meant she was improving, but he could tell any mental barriers she'd set up were weak even without attempting to break them. He was also able to feel her anxiety and view the ocean she was picturing in an attempt to block him, but he was able to maneuver around her barriers, seeing flashes of moments that meant nothing to him but were obviously important to her: staring at the clouds with teenaged Lucius in the Forbidden Forest, dancing with Lucius at their wedding, holding newborn Draco in the maternity ward at St. Mungos, smelling the head of infant Draco in his nursery, receiving her ornate wedding ring from Lucius on their anniversary, adjusting little Draco's green bowtie on the first day of primary school, holding hands with Lucius as they sent their son off on the Hogwarts Express for the first time… a lifetime of positive, innocuous memories, making it clear to any observer that her identity was completely wrapped up in being a wife and mother.

But he pressed on, beyond the surface memories, and soon found himself in the deepest recesses of her brain, enveloped in darkness, surrounded by thorns as if in that Muggle fairy tale about the princess in the tower.

It was… interesting.

As Severus had learned long ago, everyone's mind was different. To a well-organized mind, memories exist as if in filing cabinets, surrounded by jar-enclosed emotions. This was the way of Severus' mind. He had the power to open the jars or keep them closed, to unlock the cabinets or keep secret the contents. It's what made him a natural Legilimens and Occlumens.

He'd been inside Bella's mind a couple of times and found it as chaotic as he would expect from her, but also fiercely guarded. Azkaban on the outside, a dangerous madhouse in which the violently unstable patients have taken charge on the inside, and yet it was clear she was brilliant. Anything he had ever managed to gleam from her he accessed only in brief moments of weakness or when she was distracted, but even then, the contents were difficult to sift through, thanks in part to a lifetime of working diligently to keep out unwelcome intruders.

Narcissa's mind was far more open but just as sloppy, with thoughts and worries and self-doubts and confidence and secrets and dreams and strong emotions all leaping like fish in a pond, occasionally colliding, easy enough to catch, and yet quick moving. Despite the faint pulse of anxiousness, her thoughts and feelings were generally bright and pleasant, albeit somewhat dull.

Except here.

Here, beyond the pond, it was there was a dismal air, one of foreboding.

He should leave this alone. He wasn't using Legilimency to access repressed memories, or those she most wanted to keep hidden. He needed to work with her on clearing her mind and strengthening the blockades, as Dumbledore had done with him so many years ago.

But he was intrigued.

What could she be hiding here?

He plunged deeper, seeing flashes of childhood, all set against the same backdrop: a bedroom. There were three beds. Along one wall, bunkbeds. Directly across from that, a single bed. Each with matching white sheets and dark gray blankets, but each with a different colored pillowcase. Moss green on the single bed, cabernet red on the top bunk, and deep purple on the bottom. Also on the bottom bunk, propped up against the pillow as if sitting, was a soft looking stuffed graying bunny, and beside him, an ornate gold hand mirror. On the single bed, half-hidden under the pillow, was a thick hardcover book without a title along the spine, and at the foot of it were several crumpled gray jumpers with attached skirts, each bearing the Hogwarts crest – the old school (girls') uniforms. On the top bunk, the one most neatly made, there was nothing, no personal artifacts, no indication of which child slept here.

 _This must be the childhood bedroom of the Black sisters,_ he realized. _But where were they?_

The door opened. In walked Bellatrix, age eleven or twelve, but readily identifiable by her wild dark hair, arrogant expression, and heavy-lidded eyes. She was clutching a thick leather bound book to her chest. With a furtive glance around the room, she shoved it under her pillow with the other one, this time more careful to ensure they were covered. Though it, too, did not have a title on it, Severus recognized it as one from Hogwarts' library's Restricted Section, a book on dark magic called Baseline Spells, Broken Souls. A centuries-old book no student would be able to take home, or even take out… with permission.

After nervously unearthing and re-covering the book with the pillow, Bellatrix froze, eyes wide like a hunted animal. She took stock of the room. For one wild moment, Severus thought she knew he was there, but that was impossible. He hadn't gone back in time; he wasn't even in a Penseive. This was Narcissa's memory. Which must mean…

"Where are you hiding, Cissy? I know you're in here. I can smell your fear."

"I'm not afwaid!" came a tiny voice from under Bella's bed. She pronounced the R like a W. It made Severus smile.

"Yes, you are. But it's alright. You don't have to be. I've been practicing all year… if he tries, I can resist."

It was a little weird, how he could see the memory as if watching from a point on the ceiling instead of through her eyes, but not terribly uncommon – many people recorded memories as if they were Muggle movies, allowing them to see themselves as if outside themselves.

"Students ah not pehmitted to do magic outside of Hogwawts, Bewwa," came Narcissa's tiny voice. He wondered how long it had taken for her to grow out of this speech impediment (and he was glad that she did).

"I don't care. What's he going to do? Have me expelled? He'll have to say what I was doing and then he'll have to say why, which he won't, because he can't. Now, come out from under there."

"No."

"You'll have to eventually."

"No, I won't. I can wivv undeh my bed untiw it's my tuhn to go to Hogwawts."

"You'll starve to death. Come on out. It'll be fine. I can throw it off now. He won't do anything to you and neither will I. I promise. Trust me."

The memory swirled. Severus was still in the same bedroom, but it was darker. The lights were off and the sun was no longer shining through the window opposite the door. In the top bunk, a pale dark-haired girl was curled in the fetal position, eyes open but unblinking, her thumb in her mouth. That must be Andromeda.

Seated on the bottom bunk was a man. He was just beyond average-sized, with short brown hair, yellowy-green eyes, and a thick beard. He was holding out his wand, pointing it toward the single bed, smiling. That must be Stepfather.

Severus, feeling sick and apprehensive, followed the man's gaze.

On the bed, kneeling opposite each other, were Bellatrix and Narcissa. Severus quickly did the math, figuring Narcissa's age at about 7 or 8. She was undersized, too thin, and even paler than her sisters, but with pinker cheeks. She had waist-length white-blonde hair plaited into two French braids. She was trembling.

Bellatrix, whose dark eyes were eerily unfocused, was unbuttoning her little sister's nightgown. Suddenly her fingers stopped moving. She hesitated, frozen, but her eyes regained the fire Severus often saw in them. It was as if she was fighting back against an unseen force.

Stepfather's smile faltered. "Now," he ordered, flicking the wand. "Stop resisting. Imperio!"

Bellatrix's fingers unbuttoned the next button, and the next. Then, again, she hesitated.

The sick feeling in the pit of Severus' gut grew as he understood what he was witnessing. Bellatrix, under her stepfather's Imperius curse, was undressing Narcissa.

 _No!_ thought Severus. He wished he could go back in time, if only to choke the life out of this man. _No, they're children!_

Bella's fingers shook. Her eyes refocused and narrowed. Even though it was only a memory, Severus could feel the furious heat radiating from her fingertips. Her hands dropped to her sides. Her jaw clenched. She was fighting it. She was, at most, twelve years old, and she was fighting the effects of the Imperius Curse, an ability near-impossible to develop even for most full grown witches and wizards.

Though he had never liked her and would never like her, Severus suddenly had a new respect for the amount of magic the eldest Black sister possessed.

"Imperio!" said Stepfather, flicking the wand again. On the top bunk of the bed, Andromeda, approximately age ten, whimpered. She shut her eyes, still sucking her thumb.

"Bewwa, you pwomised," whispered Cissy. "I twust you."

This seemed to shake away the last of the Curse's hold on Bellatrix. She shoved her sister roughly away from her, hands shaking, and screeched. Then she leapt toward the bottom of the bed, reached under the pile of Hogwarts sweaters, retrieved her wand, and pointed it at Stepfather.

"What… what are you doing, girl? That's supposed to be locked up in your trunk for the summer!"

"I learned how to use Alohamora without a wand, so I unlocked it," said Bellatrix, keeping it trained on him. "I've learned a lot of things at Hogwarts."

 _Shit,_ thought Severus. _She was already doing wandless magic as a First year? Most witches and wizards never achieved such a thing._ Again, he was in awe of her.

"I'm not afraid of you," Stepfather said. "You're a child."

But Severus thought the madness in her eyes could frighten a wizard of any age.

"I learned all about Unforgivable Curses at school, Stepfather. Were you aware that you've been using an Unforgivable Curse? All this time, you've been only one Owl away from Azkaban… wouldn't it be a shame if someone were to, oh, I don't know… _testify_ against you in front of the Wizengamot? Wouldn't it be a shame if they locked you away? You can rot there, for all I care. All it would take is one Ow-"

"Accio wand!" he called. It flew out of her hand. He caught it with ease. Narcissa hopped off the bed and scrambled under it. As was true in adulthood, Bellatrix's arrogance had cost her dearly. Now she was unarmed.

"Give that back," she said coldly. "It's not yours."

"Everything in this house is mine," he countered. "Including you. All three of you. You belong to me."

"I don't belong to anyone!" Without her wand, she pointed a bony finger at him and screamed, "Crucio!"

And he twitched.

He didn't double over, he didn't seem to be in any pain, but he twitched. Because he felt it. Even though she was only twelve, and wandless, he _felt_ it.

Then, he laughed.

"Oh, sweet Bellatrix. What was that? Come on, now, little girl. You can't just point your finger and yell 'Crucio.' You have to _mean_ it! Do you _mean_ it, Bellatrix? Do you _want_ to cause me pain?" he taunted. "You have to _really_ _want_ to cause pain."

(Unbeknownst to Severus, these were basically the same words Bella had said to Harry Potter in the Department of Mysteries, when he'd tried the Cruciatus on her, and she had never forgotten them.)

"If I had my wand…" young Bella said, glaring threateningly at Stepfather, letting the end of the sentence hang in the air. Andromeda squeaked again. Still under the bed, Narcissa burst into tears.

"But you don't." He grinned. "And you won't. It's getting locked up again where you won't find it for the rest of the summer, you defiant little bitch. Now come here."

"No."

"Come here."

"No!"

"You'll come here…" He grabbed her arm roughly. "Or once your mother's passed out, I'll lock you two brats in your bedroom every night this week and take Narcissa down to the basement to stay with me."

For several seconds, Bellatrix refused to back down, not breaking eye contact, ready for a fight. But when she heard Cissy's tiny tearful voice whispering "Bewwa, you pwomised," from under the bed, her resolve dissipated.

"Fine," she conceded with a harshness on her face that Severus, despite all his years of teaching, had never seen on a child so young. She stepped closer to Stepfather, who patted his knee, and she sat on it. He kissed her cheek. She stared straight ahead as if she hadn't noticed.

"That's a good girl." He wrapped a thick arm around her waist and kissed her again. "Isn't it better to be a good girl? I don't know what you're so afraid of. I won't hurt you."

"I'm not afraid," she insisted, and unlike when he'd heard her sister say it earlier in the memory, it seemed she was telling the truth. She didn't sound scared, only annoyed.

Above her, on the top bunk, Andromeda squeaked again. Below the single bed, Narcissa's quiet sobs could still be heard.

"You like it," Stepfather said, squeezing Bella's knee with his hand. "I know you do."

"Make it quick, will you?" Her demeanor and tone took on that harshness again, making her look and sound much older than twelve. "I've had a bitch of a day and I'm exhausted."

Severus felt himself being shoved without warning from Narcissa's memory. He was again aware of her physical presence. They were seated across from each other in the hard back chairs of the parlor, and, just as she had been in the memory, Narcissa's entire body was shaking.

"Why…" she whispered. "Why… why… why did you see that? Why…? I thought…? I cleared my mind… I pictured an ocean… I tried… and I thought… I thought… _You said you wouldn't hurt me!_ "

The betrayal in the last part of her statement cut through him like a dagger.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to."

"I… I… I can't… I…"

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"I just… I didn't… I didn't think you'd _start_ with my worst memories!"

"Did she molest you?" he asked, as gently as he could manage. He took her trembling hands in his. "Your sister, did she…?"

"No! Never!" She stared down at her hand, terrified he'd see more if she accidentally made eye contact. "She wouldn't. But he used to make her undress me. He liked to… he liked to _look_ at me, but… but if he did it himself… if he tried to undress me… I'd cry… and he couldn't stand it when I'd cry… so he'd make Bella do it. When we were little… she used to… without fighting back… but then she started… to refuse… and so he'd use… the Imperius Curse… to force her…" explained Narcissa through her tears.

"What about Andromeda?"

"He didn't need the Imperius Curse to make Andromeda hold me down," she said, her voice full of bitterness. "She'd do it just so he'd leave her alone. But she got off easy. I was his favorite… I've told you, he like to look at me, he thought I was pretty… and Bella… He did the worst things to her… he hated her, he made that much clear, but I think he got off on trying to break her spirit. He never succeeded, though. He always made me cry. He didn't even have to touch me and I'd cry. Not her. No matter what he did, he only made her stronger."

"So when she went to Hogwarts she decided to teach herself to fight the effects?"

Narcissa nodded.

"By age fourteen the Imperius had absolutely no effect on her at all. She taught her friend Winifred to do it to her so she could get better at fighting it. She could perform it, too, of course. She used to practice on Andromeda, but I never consented to letting her try on me. I was too afraid. By the time she left Hogwarts she'd mastered both that and the Cruciatus, but by then, Stepfather was dead, so what did it matter? What did anything matter? The damage was already done." Narcissa buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

Severus, who was already feeling sick with guilt over having forced Narcissa to relive this childhood trauma, was now struck with a second reason to feel guilty – the way he'd goaded Bellatrix over her stepfather's murder, back when they'd talked over Christmas. Sure, she'd been taunting him about Lily, she'd started it, but if he'd known… if he'd known _this_ … he never would have said it.

"Please, Narcissa, I'm sorry. I… I can't tell you how sorry…"

"The fuck's going on in here?"

Great.

Bellatrix.

"Why's she crying? Cissy?" Bellatrix hurried to Narcissa's side, glaring at Severus. "What'd you do to her, Snape?"

He could feel her attempt to get into his head and understood what Narcissa had meant some time ago when she said it gave her an unpleasant feeling to have Bella use Legilimency on her. She not only lacked subtly, she was downright rough.

"I'm a better Occlumens than you are, Bellatrix," he said. "So you can quit with that."

"My sister is crying and I'd like to know why." She took Narcissa gingerly by the arm and led her to the couch, where Bella then sat beside her.

"I used Legilimency on your sister and I'm afraid I accidentally came across a traumatic childhood memory I should not have seen," he answered, figuring it was safer to be honest – otherwise Bella might try to check Narcissa's mind instead of his, and surely that would reveal far too much.

"Which memory?" asked Bellatrix, panic in her eyes. "What did you see?"

"I saw you undressing her when you were children."

Bellatrix flushed. She retracted the hand that had been comfortingly rubbing Narcissa's back, holding it to her chest with her other hand.

"You saw what?" she asked weakly.

"When you were children. Your stepfather was…"

"I know what he was doing!" She stood up, pulled out her wand, and pointed it at him. "It was one time, Snape. I only touched her one time."

"You… what?"

He was confused. This was not what he'd seen, and Narcissa had just moments ago told him she'd never been molested by her sister.

Bellatrix's wand shook in her hand. "He made me, Snape! He used the Imperius Curse. I couldn't fight it! I was only eleven! It was the night before I left for Hogwarts. I didn't want to; she knows I didn't want to! And I told her I was sorry! I told her over and over that I was sorry! Then I spent all year – all _year_ , my fucking first year – making sure he'd never be able to make me do it again! I learn to fight off the Imperius Curse before I was twelve years old! How many witches or wizards can say that? But if you're going to blame me and hate me and judge me for that _one_ time…"

"I am neither blaming nor judging you," he said calmly, but she reacted as if he'd said the exact opposite.

"Fuck you! Crucio!"

The Curse she hit him with was so powerful it knocked him off the chair. He fell to his knees, in excruciating pain, but he did not try to fight the effects. Rather, he felt like he deserved to suffer for the suffering he had inadvertently inflicted upon Narcissa.

When she felt she'd tortured him enough, Bellatrix collapsed on the couch beside Narcissa, one hand on her protruding belly, the other struggling to hold her wand steady. Narcissa, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, was struggling to regain her composure. Bella squeezed her eyes shut and he wondered if she was going to cry too, but she didn't. As the pain from her curse subsided, Severus returned to his chair, not removing his wand from his pocket, not interested in protecting himself against her, but also hoping she wouldn't do it again because damn… it hurt.

"I didn't mean to," he reiterated.

"I told her I was sorry," said Bellatrix.

"I need a drink," whimpered Narcissa.

"I should go," said Severus, standing.

"Yes, you should," said Bellatrix at the same moment Narcissa cried, "No!"

"No?" Bellatrix looked quizzically at her sister.

"We were supposed to be talking about Draco. Draco is… having a hard time at school," lied Narcissa. "He won't talk to me about it. I… I need to know… you came all this way… I just need a few minutes. I'll… meet you in the kitchen, okay?"

"Alright," said Severus, carefully avoiding looking at either of them; the sick, guilty feeling in his stomach was overwhelming. He could feel Bellatrix's furious glare on his back until he'd exited to the hallway. He hurried to the kitchen.

"Why did he do Legilimency on you?" asked Bellatrix, once he was out of earshot.

"I wanted to know what it felt like," lied Narcissa. "I know how it is when _you_ do it, but no one else. Then, during the meeting yesterday, I had this odd feeling, like someone was rifling around through my thoughts, and I was sure it wasn't you, so I asked him… I wanted to know who… and why… and I thought maybe…"

"Maybe I should teach you Occlumency," said Bellatrix. "I taught Draco the basics in only a couple of lessons. I'm certain I could do the same with you."

"I… thanks," said Narcissa, thinking this is the last thing she could possibly want. _Brick wall, ocean, clear your mind._ "Maybe… maybe that's a good idea… but not today. I need… I want to… I'm going to talk to Severus about Draco and then I think I'm going to get pissed and go to bed. I want to be alone. I want to be alone and I want to get drunk."

"Oh," said Bella, looking disappointed. "I can't do that. Get drunk, I mean. The Dark Lord says He doesn't want me consuming any alcohol at all because it's bad for the baby. Add it to the list of things I'm not permitted to do anymore. Not that I was much of a drinker before, but now, knowing I can't? It makes me want it all the more. It's infuriating. He also says I can't eat seafood. Have you heard that before? Did you eat shellfish or white tuna when you were like this? You must have, right? And Draco turned out fine. He doesn't have extra eyes or too few toes or anything stupid. What harm could a bit of raw salmon do, really? Or a small glass of wine, for that matter? I wish I was a smoker; I'm in the mood to smoke. But I bet He wouldn't let me do that either. Damaging to the baby's lungs or some silly rubbish."

"The Dark Lord lectures you about the dangers of liquor and seafood while pregnant?" For some reason, the absurdity of this combined with the need to escape the lingering tension from the revelation of those memories made Narcissa laugh, which made Bellatrix pout, which made Narcissa laugh harder.

"Stop laughing, Cissy! I'm craving crab. It's all I can think about. Crab legs, crab soup, softshell crab, crabmeat sandwiches… Cook me something made with crab!"

"Crab isn't even in season."

"And wine! Red wine. I want a glass, maybe two, that's all."

"You don't even really like wine."

"But I want it!" whined Bellatrix.

"Well, we all what things we can't have," said Narcissa, rubbing her eyes, which burned from having cried so much.

"I don't like that he knows about… you know," said Bellatrix. "Snape, I mean. That's our business, not his."

"He won't tell anyone."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because…" How could she be sure? Because she knew he cared about her, that's how. But she couldn't say that to her sister. "Because he's my husband's closest friend, Bella. And Lucius trusts him, so I trust him."

"Well, _I_ don't trust him. I think he's still Dumbledore's man. I think he always was."

"The Dark Lord doesn't agree with you."

"The Dark Lord doesn't know everything, Cissy. There are, in fact, a great many things the Dark Lord does not know. For starters, the Dark Lord doesn't know that the next time He leaves Malfoy Manor I'm going to apparate to Muggle London and have myself the biggest plate of crab salad known to man and a massive glass of red wine and I'm not going to worry a whit about it because I'm a fucking adult. The Dark Lord doesn't seem to know that, either. That I'm an adult, I mean. But I damn well am. And know what else? I'm capable of doing more than sitting around here gathering dust! He doesn't seem to know it, but there's no legitimate, sensible reason I can't be out capturing Muggleborns on the run or molding young minds at Hogwarts or torturing the Lovegood girl for sport, which I might do anyway, next time He's out, since she's right in the basement dungeon anyway, and He'll never be any the wiser, so believe me, Cissy, when I say the Dark Lord doesn't know everything."

"What is that I don't know, Bellatrix?" hissed a cold voice from the doorway. Narcissa felt her blood go cold and judging by the way her sister paled, it was mutual.

"My Lord!" Bellatrix leapt to her feet. "I… I'm sorry, I… how much did you hear?"

"I entered as you were telling your sister about your plans to have – what was it? – 'the biggest plate of crab salad known to man and a massive glass of red wine'? Yes, that was it. Because I don't know everything? Tell me, Bella, what else do I not know?"

"I…"

"Narcissa," the Dark Lord turned his intimidating gaze on her. Immediately she worked to clear her mind. "Your sister is my most loyal, faithful, and dedicated servant. She is also, at the moment, my only servant who is 'with child,' as you are aware, which poses challenges for her that other Death Eaters, like your husband, do not face. You've been with child before, haven't you?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And during that time, did you drink alcohol and eat seafood?"

"I… I honestly don't recall, my Lord. It was a long time ago."

He nodded, as if pondering this. "I see."

"I'm sure a little wouldn't hurt, my Lord…" Bellatrix started, but He cut her off, still addressing Narcissa as if Bella wasn't in the room.

"When your sister is through _gestating_ I expect her to return to her previous activities – eating shellfish, drinking wine, torturing teenagers, whatever it may be – but for now, in her condition, she is a liability, not an asset. I have invested thirty years in the cultivation of your sister and if keeping her from seafood, liquor, and battle is the best way to protect my investment, that is precisely what I shall do. Consider it your mission to make her understand this, Narcissa. My patience with both her obstinance and her impertinence is growing thin."

"Yes, my Lord," said Narcissa.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, I need to speak candidly with your sister about an unrelated manner."

"Yes, my Lord." With an anxious parting look at Bellatrix, Narcissa hurried out to meet Severus in the kitchen. She found him sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea, with a second cup and saucer across from him, waiting for her.

"I thought it might be soothing," he said, indicating the tea. "I found this in the cupboard. Chamomile."

"Thank you."

"I truly am sorry for what I saw, Narcissa."

"What's done is done." She sat across from him, lifted the saucer, and sipped the tea. Her gray eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying. He had to avert his gaze out of guilt. But she assumed his lack of ability to look at her was for an entirely different reason. For several minutes they sipped tea without speaking.

"I understand," she said, breaking the silence. "I knew you wouldn't want me anymore if you knew."

"Excuse me?" He set down his own cup and saucer.

"Now that you've seen. Now that you know. Now that you know how broken and pathetic I was. Now that you know what Bella did to me – and, much worse, what I did to her."

He was confused. "What did you do?"

"Are you serious? I said 'you promised' because I didn't want him to look at me and I knew if I reminded her that she promised it would push her to take my place. Because I didn't want him to look at me, I made her… I guilted her into… into… into letting him… even though what he did to her was always a lot worse, I… I didn't care, I only cared about myself. That makes me a horrible person, doesn't it? As bad as Andromeda. No, worse. The worst. Bella let him do awful things to her just so I wouldn't have to suffer through being looked at. How could I ask that of her?"

"What were you, seven?"

"Eight."

"You're asking if I think you're a horrible person because, at eight years old, you were so afraid of being… because you said… because you were…" He shook his head, unable to properly put his reaction to this into words. Finally he said, "Fuck, no, Narcissa, _no_ , that does not make you a horrible person."

"I used to spend a lot of time in front of the mirror, Severus. My sisters teased me about it. When I started dating Lucius Andromeda asked if I planned to tell him I was already in love with myself, so he'd never be anything more than second best, and she thought she was quite clever, but the truth is, I wasn't staring in the mirror all the time because I was in love with my own looks. I wasn't vain, I was confused. I spent time in the mirror wondering what it was he saw, what it was that made me different, special. He always said I was different, special. Was it my hair? I'm the only blonde. Or my eyes? Andromeda and Bellatrix both have my father's dark eyes. But I didn't see how it made sense because I looked so much like mother. Mother had blonde hair. Mother had gray eyes. Mother and I were both pale but with rosier cheeks than my sisters and we both have the same nose and neither of us have freckles or scars or dimples. My aunt, Sirius and Regulus' mother, she used to call me 'Druella in miniature.' But if I looked so much like my mother, why was he always looking at _me_? Why not _her_? He married _her_! And now Lucius is off screwing my cousin, my cousin on Mother's side, and she looks so much like me, too. Same gray eyes, same blonde hair, same complextion, same nose… and he looks at her like… like he used to look at me. No, that's not right. He looks at her the way Stepfather used to look at me. Appraising and predatory and… full of the wrong kind of desire. I saw him looking at Juliet at that meeting yesterday and last night when he was gone I sat in front of the mirror like I used to and, Severus, I just don't understand it. I don't understand why Lucius wants my cousin and not me, and I don't understand why Stepfather wanted me and not Mother, and I don't understand… I don't understand men at all, Severus. None of you make a damn bit of sense!"

"If it counts for anything, we men don't think you women make a damn bit of sense either." He hoped that would make her smile, but she bit her lip apprehensively. "What is it, Narcissa? What are you thinking?"

"I'm just wondering…"

"You're wondering?"

"Severus, do you still want me?"

Though she'd asked him this many times before, the inquiry took him by surprise. "What?"

"Now that you know… more… can you still look at me? Can you look at me the way you used to?"

"I… of course."

"Then why have you spent this entire conversation staring at your saucer? It doesn't even have a pattern on it. It couldn't possibly be all that interesting."

Severus dragged his gaze up to meet hers. "I'm sorry, Narcissa."

"Sorry because you don't want me anymore?"

"Sorry because I hurt you. I meant to teach you Occlumency. I did not set out to invade your privacy or take advantage of your trust in any way. And, for the record, while I'm glad your stepfather was murdered, if I had a Time Turner, I'd be tempted to go back to the late fifties and kill him myself."

Her eyes filled again with tears. This time she was the one who looked away.

"Lucius has a Time Turner. A family heirloom. He's never used it. He says time isn't something you can fiddle with, because whatever you do might make the present worse and the damage may be irreversible."

Suddenly another memory popped into Severus' head – of the time Narcissa told him her husband fantasized about her and her older sister. The sick feeling in his gut returned.

"Does Lucius know? What Bellatrix did to you?"

Narcissa's watery eyes widened. "No! No, he knows about Stepfather, he was so good about it when I… when I told him… see, I… there was a lot that I… could't let him do… when we were teenagers… but he was wonderful, he gave me all the power in that regard, and he never pushed me, and he… but… but even though he was sweet about it, and protective and patient… he always had a… a _thing_ for Bellatrix, and I was afraid… if I told him… I didn't know if it would… how he would feel… so I never told… I just couldn't… please, don't…"

"I won't!" He assured her. "I was merely curious… he has a Time Turner, he loves you, if he knew, surely he would want to…"

"No! What if something went wrong? What if you or I or Lucius went back and killed Stepfather a decade early, and then, say, Mother got blamed and went to Azkaban, and we had to be raised by other relatives, like her parents, and then it would be even worse for us."

"How could it possibly be worse?"

"Well, Stepfather never raped us, so there's that."

"I don't follow."

She sighed, reached up her left hand, and began twirling her hair.

"When I was five, the first time, when I cried and Mother slapped me, I was confused and hurt. I thought she must not have understood what was happening, what he was doing. But when I told Bella and Andromeda that we should… that we should make her understand, they laughed at me. Bella said they'd already told her. She knew. Bella said she'd told her after their very first time."

"And?"

"First Mother called her a liar."

He nodded, but still didn't see where she was going with this. "Okay."

"Then, when Bella said she'd tell on him, Mother said they should stop whining. She said she got it much worse than they did – she said at least he wasn't doing to us what her father did to her – and she said she turned out fine and we would too, so long as we shut up about it, because we needed Stepfather. We couldn't survive on our own, she said. She said she didn't want to hear any more about it. Years later, she denied this. She said we were all liars. She said Bella was a whore who'd been brainwashed by the Dark Lord and was trying to poison us against her. But Andromeda assures me Bella didn't make it up. Mother was… Mother was raped as a child, and thought we ought to consider ourselves lucky that wasn't happening to us."

"Shit," whispered Severus, who was having a hard time wrapping his brain around this cyclical abuse. For the first time, it occurred to him to wonder if his paternal grandfather beat his beloved grandmother.

"So if you went back in time and killed Stepfather and Mother ended up blamed and got sent to Azkaban, who would raise us, Severus? Our grandparents? Mother's father? What if that's what would have happened? And what if it would have been worse? We can't know, can we? That's why we should never meddle in the past. It's dangerous."

"I need something stronger than tea," he said, setting down his cup and saucer. Narcissa nodded her agreement and snapped her fingers.

Squeakers appeared before them with a POP.

"Mistress Malfoy wishes something of Squeakers?" asked the little house elf in her squeaky voice.

"Yes," said Narcissa. "A bottle of red wine and a bottle of… scotch?"

He nodded.

"A bottle of scotch. And glasses. Have them in my room. And food. I'm famished. I skipped lunch. Bring the liquor now and the food in an hour."

"In the master bedroom, Mistress Malfoy, ma'am?"

"Yes. Go to the basement for the good stuff, not what we serve guests."

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy, Squeakers will oblige!" The house elf's huge eyes blinked up at Narcissa hopefully. Whether she was waiting for a head pat or a thank you, Narcissa wasn't certain, so she gave the little pipsqueak both, which made her squeal delightedly before disappearing with a POP.

"That house elf certainly seems to like you," said Severus, raising an eyebrow. In all the years he'd known the Malfoys, he'd never seen any of them thank, praise, pat, or even be cordial toward their house elves.

"I made the mistake of thanking her at Christmas then I gave her a new blanket on the first because the one she had was threadbare and now I think she adores me." Narcissa shuddered. "Thankfully, Lucius hasn't noticed."

"Civility to your inferiors is nothing to be ashamed of, Narcissa." Severus rose, made his way to her side of the table, and kissed her temple. "Why are we taking the drinks in your bedroom?"

"Because I think we need more privacy." She stood too, squeezed his hand briefly, and moved quickly to the door. "I'll go first. Give me a few minutes before following. If you meet anyone in the hall, just say you forgot… you forgot to give me a message from my husband or something like that."

But Severus didn't need to make anything up because he didn't run into anyone in the hall. When Narcissa let him into her bedroom, she was already several sips into her first glass of wine. She handed him the bottle of scotch and locked the door.

"Don't worry, Severus, I won't get drunk. I know you have a personal policy against having sex with women who are too wasted to consent."

"You can get drunk if you want to," he said, "Because I'm not having sex with you in the bed you share with your husband."

"Why not? You have before."

That was six months ago, the night he called her his. _"My Narcissa… Right now, in this moment, you are."_ It gave her goose bumps to remember it.

"That was different. He was in Azkaban then."

"And he's probably shagging my cousin right now."

Severus placed the scotch bottle down on her dresser, moved to her, and slipped his arms around her waist. She sipped her wine as he kissed her neck.

"I'll find a time and place for us to be together soon," he promised. "Valentine's Day is less than a month away. Assuming Lucius will not be home, perhaps we could meet…"

"Perhaps," she said. She levitated her glass to the small table beside her bed. "Or perhaps we could do it here since we're already here, preferably now, since it's already now."

She guided him down into a kiss, which he returned, but as soon as it started to become heated he pulled away.

"Are you certain you're alright? After earlier?"

"Severus, I was upset. I'm upset that you saw it and then upset that Bella was upset. But it was almost thirty-five years ago and I've come to terms with… with everything. I think the better question is, are you sure _you're_ alright?"

"What did you end up telling her?"

Narcissa sighed. She relayed the conversation between herself and Bellatrix after he left the parlor, including the Dark Lord's interruption. He listened with a look of concern on his pale face.

"She wants to teach you Occlumency? That's not good."

"I know. I'll just tell her I don't want to learn. In the meantime, you can teach me and I'll block her out and it'll be fine."

"Let me teach you, then." He released her, summoned over the chair from her desk, and placed it opposite the chair by the vanity. "I promise not to… not to see anything else I shouldn't. But we need to teach you to block your mind. Especially now."

"Accio wine." Once the glass was in her hand, she downed what was left in it. "Fine. Let's do it."

They worked on it for about an hour, until Squeakers interrupted with a light nosh. Severus found he was as hungry as Narcissa had said she was. When they finished eating, it was after five.

"Let's work a little more," he said, placing what remained of the scotch back on the dresser. This time I want you to focus on a specific memory and try to keep me from seeing it. It doesn't have to be a negative one. Actually, it's better if it isn't. Put all of your focus on it, then imagine that I am questioning you about it, and when I enter your mind, clear your mind, get rid of that memory in particular, and block me. I won't go easy on you this time, though. Okay?"

"Okay." She scrunched up her face, concentrating on a positive memory from her days at Hogwarts.

"I'm going to ask you questions about it and whether or not you lie is up to you, but I don't want to be able to discern whether you're lying."

"Okay."

He placed two fingers under her chin, made eye contact, and began.

 _Clear your mind._

"Are you alone?" he asked.

"No."

"You're with your sister."

"N-no."

"You're lying."

Her cheeks went pink.

"Try harder. You're with your sister… at Hogwarts. Bellatrix. In the Room of Requirement, the room where you brewed the birth control potion. You're brewing a potion. What is it?"

She clenched her fists. In the memory she'd chosen, she was indeed in the Room of Requirement (thought she didn't know it by that name) brewing a potion with her sister Bellatrix. How could he tell? She was trying so hard to keep her mind clear, to keep that particular memory out of it.

"What is the potion?"

"A… Wolfsbane?"

"You're lying."

"Damn it, this is difficult."

"Don't add commentary, Narcissa. Clear your mind."

"I'm trying!"

"Don't try, do."

She rolled her eyes. He tapped the bottom of her chin, urging her to resume eye contact.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"You're…" he paused. He hadn't gotten the feeling she was lying, but she had to be. By the time she was fifteen, Bellatrix was out of Hogwarts.

"A good effort," he said finally. "But you're lying."

"Bloody hell!"

"No commentary!"

He continued to probe. The memory went fuzzy, as if he was seeing it through dense fog. This was good. She wasn't clearing her mind, not sufficiently, but she was attempting to block him, and it seemed to be working.

"You're plotting something… you and your sister… you're doing something wrong."

"No, we're not!" she replied too quickly. He didn't need Legilimency to know she was lying this time – he was a teacher.

"You're… a Second year?"

"Third," she said. Either she was telling the truth or she was getting better, though she looked awfully small for thirteen. This made him smirk, though. She'd apparently already forgotten she'd claimed to be fifteen.

"What year is Bellatrix in?"

"Sixth." Again he didn't get the feeling she was lying, but she must be, or she'd been lying before, because they were four years apart, not three. He smiled.

The fog around her memory got denser.

Blocking someone in this way was not as effective as simply emptying the mind, as it gave the Legillimens the notion that there was something worth blocking, which gave said Legilimens a place to focus their energy, to exract the memory in question, but this would be all she'd need in Death Eater meetings to keep the Dark Lord or her sister (or Severus) from seeing or sensing anything they shouldn't, anything that would make them curious enough to seek more.

Once one has demonstrated proficiency in clearing the mind, he or she can then work on closing the mind, and in doing so, master controlling the mind. As Severus once told Potter, emptying one of emotions is key _. "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves… who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked easily – weak people, in other words – they stand no chance against His powers…"_

For the first time since Severus had brought up the possibility of learning Occlumency to Narcissa, he was feeling as though she truly did have a chance. Though her mind was more scattered than that of her son, she, too, seemed to be a natural.

"You're doing well," he said. But in that moment her pride swelled, thus she was distracted enough that he was able to penetrate the mental barrier she'd created and press in deeper. Now he could see clearly as Bellatrix, approximately seventeen, plucked a long, blonde hair from Narcissa's head, then did the same from her own and handed it to her sister. The each dropped the hair into a goblet of unpleasant looking liquid Severus recognized as Polyjuice potion. The liquid in Bella's cup turned Hufflepuff yellow, which made Severus smirk, and the one in Narcissa's cup – essence of Bellatrix – bubbled thick and black like tar.

"You made Polyjuice potion," he said.

"No, we didn't," she lied. He couldn't sense she was lying, but he could see clearly that he was correct. He heard the words _"clear your mind"_ echo through her head, sounding as if they came from his mouth, but he hadn't spoken, and suddenly the memory was replaced by a vast expanse of nothingness, which he couldn't penetrate.

She'd done it.

He tried again to get through, to access the memory, to sense her emotions, but to no avail. Giving up, he closed his eyes a moment, leaving her mind, and smiled upon opening them.

"Well done, Narcissa!"

"I did alright?"

"You did better than alright. In all the lessons I gave Potter two years ago, he never managed that, and you've done it on the first day."

"So you're saying I'm smarter than Potter? I'm not sure that's terribly complimentary considering I've always heard he wasn't much brighter than an enchanted tea kettle, but thank you nonetheless."

He laughed, took her hand in his, and kissed her palm.

"Can we take a break?" she asked. "I'd like to drink more."

"We can," he answered. "Provided you're willing to explain that memory to me. Why were you two brewing Polyjuice potion?"

Narcissa smiled, happy to share a preferred memory.

"It was my First year, her Fifth. She was in danger of failing her Potions O.W.L. so I agreed to take it for her, in exchange for her taking my flying exam, since I was afraid of heights. Still am, actually. It seemed like the perfect set was the one class she truly struggled in. She's not patient enough for potions, but I was, as you know. I was smart – smarter than Potter, anyway." (He snickered.) "I did well on her exam but not too well, so as not to arouse suspicion, but she's too damn full of herself to have done the same. She showed off in my exam, out-flying everyone else just because she could, and of course that got us caught. Madam Hooch was a first year professor, fresh off refereeing professional Quidditch matches, and she was certain she'd been tricked because there's no way a cowardly girl who could barely mount her broom the week before would fly like that. The following day she and Professor Slughorn called me into Dumbledore's office for a 'chat' about it and I broke down in under thirty seconds, confessing the whole plot to the three of them. Bellatrix failed her Potions O.W.L. and I failed my flying exam, but I had fun making the potion with Bella and I was proud of myself for doing it proficiently, plus Slughorn was so impressed by my work he gave me extra marks and invited me to join the Slug Club as a Second year."

Severus laughed. "Bellatrix must have wanted to throttle you."

"Oh, she did! She hit me with a jelly legs jinx in the common room, followed by that awful tickling hex, and even our prefects didn't try to stop her because they were more afraid of her than I was of flying! Finally Andromeda came to my rescue. Then she scolded us both, saying it served us right for being dishonest, and Bella said, 'What do you know of honesty? You've been padding your bra all year!' Bella didn't just merely say it, understand, she _shouted_ it in front of everyone in the entire common room and Andromeda was so humiliated and angry she stormed off and didn't speak to either of us again until we were back home for summer break."

Severus chuckled, finding all of these quite amusing. "So that's how you ended up in the Slug Club? Nothing to do with being pretty."

"Nothing at all! Lucius wouldn't know that, though. He didn't even know I existed until a year and a half later."

"Oh?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "Is that when _you_ started padding _your_ bra? Tell me, did Andromeda ever grow out of doing it? I realize, of course, that you haven't."

She cupped her chest defensively. "I don't… I… that's not padding, it's… it's just… that's the style of the bras I wear, you jackass."

Severus laughed harder, pretending to wipe away a tear. Then he tried to pull her onto his lap but she smacked his bicep.

"Bugger off!"

"Don't worry, Narcissa. I think you're pretty enough for the Slug Club with or without your padded bra. If anything, I prefer you without it."

He tried again to take her in his arms. Again she smacked him.

"Get away from me." But she was giggling.

The clock in the corner chimed. It was six pm. He should be going, if he was going to make it to dinner at Hogwarts.

"Send them an Owl. Tell them you were called away and you'll be back tomorrow."

"I can't."

"Of course you can. Let McGonagall run the school for the night. She's more than capable."

"The Dark Lord wouldn't like it."

"The Dark Lord doesn't have to know." She climbed onto his lap, straddling him on the chair. "We can have dinner later, if you're in the mood. Or you can have _me_ later, if you're in the mood."

"Narcissa, I can't…" he began, but despite his brain's attempts to protest, his hands moved to her ass, pulling her closer.

"You can," she insisted. She kissed his neck. "If you want to."

"I'm not having sex with you in the bed you share with your husband."

"Who said anything about sex? I mentioned dinner." She kissed him again.

"I can read your mind, remember? I know you're not thinking about dinner."

"Spend the night, Severus." This time she kissed his lips. "We don't have to do anything. Just hold me. I don't want to sleep alone."

"I'll lay with you," he said. "Until midnight. Then I have to go."

"That's not long enough." She kissed him again, ever so slightly sucking on his bottom lip. It lasted only a millisecond, but it was enough to weaken him.

"I'd have to leave very early," he amended. "Before dawn."

"Maybe you'll stay until I wake up?" She kissed him a third time, sliding her tongue into his mouth, which he accepted eagerly. Damn it, he wanted her.

"Maybe… maybe I'll stay until it's nearly time for breakfast. I will stay the night, but I must return to Hogwarts before breakfast."

"Let me check my schedule," she said. She kissed him a fourth time, pulling away before he wanted her to. "I'll let you know whether I'm free tonight, but I can't promise anything because I am a very busy woman."

This time he initiated a kiss.

"You drive me mad, Narcissa."


	25. Overnight January 18-19, 1998

**A/N:** Lemon Alert :) Plus answers to review Qs at the end of the chapter. Thx! **AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-five – Overnight January 18** **th** **-19** **th** **, 1998**

She sat straddling him as they chatted and kissed for over a half hour with no progression, which Narcissa thoroughly enjoyed and Severus found perplexing, namely because _before her_ he'd never considered that kissing could be anything more than the first step toward inevitable sex, whereas _with her_ , it was its own experience. And he liked it.

"Are you sleeping with anyone else?" she asked before pressing her chest against his and kissing his neck.

"We're going to have this conversation again?"

"I like to know."

"No," he answered with a slight sigh. "I am not sleeping with anyone else and I haven't since it became clear that you and I… that we…"

He was unable to finish the sentence.

"Good," she said, saving him from having to complete the thought. "I don't want you with anyone else."

"Have you been sleeping with your husband?"

She bit her lip, which told him yes, but he prompted her to answer anyway.

"On January third, plus yesterday, and once last week," she listed. "But yesterday lasted under a minute so I really don't think it counts, which means it's basically happened twice during this whole year."

"We're only eighteen days into this year," he pointed out. "That isn't fair. Twice for you is twice more than for me. Perhaps I should see if Septima is interested…"

"Fine, do that!" She climbed off of his lap and threw herself dramatically across the bed, sprawled out on her back. "Go see if one-hundred-and-forty-six-year-old Septima Vector wants to shag you before she keels over of old age. But first, tell me, darling, can she still walk unassisted? Or does she need a cane? And orthodic shoes and spectacles and dentures?"

He snorted. "She's fifty-three, Narcissa, not one-hundred-and-forty-six."

"Same difference. If you're into elderly witches, go see if she's available, I don't bloody well care."

He laughed heartily at this, rising from the chair, and joined her on the bed. He positioned himself on his stomach, not touching her.

"Perhaps I will. She taught me everything I know. Do you reckon I have more to learn?"

"Wait, what?" Narcissa propped herself up on her elbows, surveying him. "What do you mean, she taught you everything you know? You said you've been with her a couple dozen times in the last decade. You've learned everything you know within the last decade? From her?"

"I said that was how many times we've been together in the last decade, yes, but there were five years that preceeded this last decade…"

"Wait, what?" she said again. She pulled herself in to a cross-legged seated position beside him. "I don't understand."

"If you must know," he began, rolling onto his back. "When I started teaching at Hogwarts, I was twenty-one and I'd had sex only once, with a woman I loathed. That particular woman had ben sent to me several months earlier by the Dark Lord as a sort of twisted gift, one I accepted under duress but did not want, and therefore I had a rather limited and negative view of sex. Septima was… well, I suppose she was about the age I am now, a year younger maybe, and she took me under her wing, so to speak."

"Under her wing? Or into her bed?"

"Both."

Narcissa scowled. "Wasn't she a professor when you were a student? Isn't it inappropriate for you two to… to be doing that?"

"We weren't 'doing that' when I was a student and I didn't take Arithmancy so I barely knew her and she didn't know me at all."

"Prior to her you'd been with only one woman?"

He nodded, unable to look at her, as a vision from that night assaulted him – being fellatiated by her sister Bellatrix, whom he'd tried multiple times to turn away but couldn't, as she persisted on the grounds that the Dark Lord had sent her with a job to do and she would never fail Him, no matter how repulsive the assignment. (Among other things, it hadn't been a great night for his self-esteem.)

That was the night she'd told him, "The best way to get over one woman is to get on top of another."

Which was both crass and not at all accurate.

"Severus? Who was she?" Narcissa settled herself beside him with her arm around his waist and her head on his chest. "The woman the Dark Lord sent you?"

"No one worth remembering," he said. "You should thank Professor Vector. If she hadn't taught me everything I know, I wouldn't have learned how to do that thing you like…"

Even though she wanted to be bothered by this, she half-smiled. "Which thing?"

"You know which thing. That thing Lucius won't do for you."

Her cheeks went pink as she realized to what he was referring. "Oh, _that_ thing! Well, I still don't like knowing… knowing about her."

"Don't be jealous."

"I'm not jealous."

"Yes, you are. But don't be. I have no interest in her anymore. Besides, like you said, she's old. Ancient. One foot in the grave."

"Hardly!" Narcissa sat up halfway and rapped him on the center of his chest. "She's fifty-three! That's barely a decade older than I am!"

Severus cracked up at this abrupt turnaround.

"You're jealous and it's endearing," he said, pulling her down to him so he could kiss her.

"Severus?" She rested her head again on his chest. He brushed through her hair with his fingertips. "Why did the Dark Lord send a woman to you? Was it to make you forget about… about Lily Potter?"

"It was."

"But it didn't work?"

"Obviously."

"You didn't want to be with this woman, whoever she was, but she insisted?"

"She did."

"So… it's a little like she… like she assaulted you, then, isn't it? If you didn't want to, but she…"

"She was persistent," he said. "And I gave in, because I was vulnerable at the time. That's all."

He acted as though the subject was closed, but her words made him think. When Bellatrix had gotten out of Azkaban, she came to see him at Spinner's End seeking information regarding the whereabouts of the Dark Lord, and they'd fought, and then he'd held her down and fucked her on his couch (which she seemed to find pleasantly surprising, presumably owing to the fact that she was feeling nearly as vulnerable in that moment as he'd been fourteen years prior). The reason for this had alluded him ever since. He didn't understand why he'd even wanted her in that moment – he loathed her, not least of all because of what she'd taken from him the night the Dark Lord sent her to him, when his heart was still completely belonging to Lily. Lily, who was marked for death.

But suddenly Severus was seeing the situation clearly. It was, like most of his fights with Bellatrix, entirely about gaining the upper hand. She'd had it the night she took her virginity, which left him feeling weak and bitter, and that's why he had to have her again, on his own terms, and after it was done, when they'd parted ways, he knew he would never want her again. Which he didn't.

"Show me a positive memory."

"What?" He was so lost in thought the sound of Narcissa's voice actually jolted him.

"You saw one of my most horrible memories tonight, and one of my favorites, and several in between, and I haven't seen any of yours."

"Occlumency and Legilimency don't work that way, Narcissa. I can't simply plant a memory in your mind."

"Can't you? The Dark Lord did it with Potter, to lure him to the Department of Mysteries."

"The Dark Lord is a far greater Legilimens than I, though I suspect He and Potter are connected somehow…" his voice trailed off. "I could tell you about a happy memory, though."

"Okay."

"Alright, so it was Easter. I was walking the halls of Hogwarts when I spotted the very attractive wife of my closest friend, who had come to the school to bother her son because she's overly attached to him…"

"I don't know if I like where this is going," she said, but she snuggled closer. "I doubt very much that she is overly attached. I believe she's simply a caring mother, who…"

"No," he interjected. "This is my memory so I will describe it as I see it. She's overly attached to her grown up son so she came all the way to Hogwarts to bother him…"

He relayed their entire encounter from that first afternoon, when he asked her to follow him to his office, when he told her she couldn't be coming to the castle, and when she threw herself at him, desperate to be wanted.

"She's not much of a cook, this woman," he said. "But she's getting better."

"I think she's a delightful cook," Narcissa said, but again he cut her off.

"Whose memory is this? It's mine. Now hush. She told me she was pathetic and going gray and that she couldn't bake a cherry pie and that she'd never even been kissed by any man besides her husband. Despite these obvious character flaws I found her quite desirable, so I kissed her."

"Character flaws?"

"Oh, and she was on the older side too. Forty-one. That accounts for the graying hair, I suppose. By some miracle, though, she was still capable of walking without the assistance of a cane or special shoes."

"Cheerio! You can sod off, you jolly good ruddy wanker," she said, invoking the words of the Americn Muggle girl from the play.

"Hush, or you'll miss the best part, when I carried her to bed and had my way with her. Trouble is, I was so adept at it, she's been absolutely obsessed with me ever since."

Narcissa giggled. "I think maybe you're the one getting old, Severus. Your memory is going. They have potions to help with that, you know. I could brew you one, but I didn't study geriatric antidotes."

"That's fine. I wouldn't expect you to be able to brew one. I heard you were only invited to join the Slug Club because you were pretty."

"I'm still pretty."

"You're ridiculous."

Propped up on one arm, she leaned down and kissed him gently, though it quickly progressed to more passionate snogging, as he guided her body over his, his hands roaming up and down her back. He then rolled them over and they kissed until both were breathless. When he finally pulled away, he flopped back onto his back, and reiterated, "I am not going to have sex with you in the bed you share with your husband."

"Fine, then," she said. "But it's getting late and if you don't plan to undress me I'm going to undress myself and put on something more comfortable." She rose from the bed, made her way to the dresser, and took out a nightgown. "I'm going into the bathroom to change and then you can cuddle me until sunrise."

"I don't cuddle!" he called after her.

"Snuggle, then!" she called back. She shut the bathroom door.

"That's worse!"

When she emerged from the he took one look at her and laughed.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

The nightgown was of thick cotton and white with a delicate pattern of embroidered pink roses along the bottom. It ended just below her knees and had little cap sleeves accented by lace trim. He'd never before seen her don anything so… matronly.

"It's a nightgown," she said. She sat at her vanity, pulled her brush from the drawer, and began to work it through her two-toned, shoulder-length hair. "Since you don't feel like having sex, I figured I might as well be comfortable."

"You're dressed like my mother."

"Well, if you change your mind and find yourself wanting to take it off me…"

"How could I?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not into Oedipal foreplay."

She stopped brushing and turned to face him. "What's edible foreplay? Like eating in bed?"

"Oedipal, not edible. It's… Never mind."

She set the brush down and crawled onto the bed beside him. "Meanwhile, do you sleep like that? Fully dressed?"

"Yes," he said, without a hint of sarcasm. "Every night. Though usually, I also leave my shoes on."

She giggled. "You're being silly. At the very least, take this off…" She helped him to remove his wizard's robes, but, of course, did not stop there. When he was finally down to just his undershorts, he stopped her.

"I'd say that's quite enough, Narcissa."

She raised her thin eyebrows, smirking at him. "Fine, then." She grabbed her wand from the side table, pointed it toward the fireplace, and gave it a flick. A fire roared to life, heating the drafty bedroom. She climbed under the covers and motioned for him to do the same.

Once he had, she wiggled closer to him, placing her right hand on the center of his chest, which he held with his left.

"Now what?" she whispered. "I'm not tired. Tell me another happy memory. A real one. One I'm not in."

"I don't have many happy memories that you're not in," he said, but he almost instantly regretted it, as he caught the expression on her face – she looked like Squeakers, the house elf, awaiting a head pat.

"What about happy memories of Lily? Surely you must have those or you wouldn't… you wouldn't feel for her as you do."

"Do you really want me to tell you about a happy memory of a time with Lily?" He was treading on shaky ground, as sharing details could be dangerous for a multitude of reasons.

"It doesn't have to be anything too personal."

He closed his eyes, picturing himself and Lily at eleven years old, during their last summer before Hogwarts.

"She lived near my family's home on Spinner's End, but in the nicer area. Her sister didn't like me and her parents thought I was weird, so we couldn't spend much time at her house, and you know about my parents, thus can guess why we couldn't go there. So one afternoon we met by the brook and walked to this playground not too far away. We were sitting on the swings, talking, not really swinging, when some kids came over. They were about our age, a mix of girls and boys. It was clear they were the popular type. They looked me over in much the same way your cousin Sirius used to, with revulsion, and asked her if she wanted to go off with them instead, but made it clear I was not invited to come along. She shook her head, took my hand, and said, 'No thanks. I'm spending the afternoon with my friend.' They shrugged like they thought she was mental and walked away, but it was a happy memory for me."

"That's so sad."

"What? Why?"

"Your happy memory is just a friend telling other kids she's your friend?" Narcissa kissed the center of his chest, just above her hand.

"You don't understand. That was the first time in my childhood that a kid had ever told other kids I was a friend."

"I do understand. That's why I find it sad. I find it sad you didn't have more friends and I find it sad that you were eleven before you had your first friend." This time she kissed his cheek. "But I'm glad she was your friend."

"Did you have friends? I was under the impression you primarily spent time following around your sisters."

"That's true. I didn't have friends. Not before Hogwarts, not at Hogwarts, and not after Hogwarts. When I was little, the other girls teased me for my inability to speak properly – you heard me in that memory. I couldn't pronounce my Ls or my Rs, they were all Ws. At Hogwarts, the other four girls in my dorm paired off and left me out. And after I got married, I was expected to be friendly with the wives of Lucius' friends, but after the issue with Endora Selwyn I knew I couldn't trust any of them anymore, so… I suppose you're my only friend."

"That's sad," he said. He tightened his grip around her, hugging her to him. "Since my closest friend over the last twenty years has been your husband, I assume it's safe to say you're currently my only friend, too. But at least you have your sister."

She grinned. "And at least you have Septima Vector, that sweet old lady."

This made him laugh. "You are a ridiculous woman, have I told you that recently?"

"You have."

"Allow me to tell you again. You are a ridiculous woman."

"Is this how you treat all your friends, Severus? By calling them ridiculous? If so, perhaps that's why you don't have more friends," Narcissa teased.

"I don't need more friends," he said, rolling over so he was on top of her. He ran his hand up her thigh under the cotton nightgown. "Yours is all the friendship I can handle."

"You should kiss me," she whispered, sliding her hand up to the back of his head, scratching her nails lightly against his scalp.

He did.

But just when it seemed like kissing was going to lead to more, he pulled away again.

"I am not having sex with you in the bed you share with your husband," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes.

They continued to talk about nothing of any importance for an hour or so, until the clock chimed midnight and Narcissa expressed that she was getting tired. Severus repositioned them so that Narcissa was lying on her side, facing away from him, and he was behind her, with his arm around her waist. He settled his left hand on her midsection and she covered it with her own.

He kissed her shoulder through the fabric of the nightgown.

"Goodnight, Narcissa."

"Goodnight, Severus."

That night, Narcissa had a terrible nightmare, thanks in part to the fact that she'd gone to bed without consuming Dreamless Sleep and thanks in part to the memory Severus had inadvertently dragged up from the dark recesses of her mind earlier in the day.

 _She was very small, wearing only her underclothes, being held down on the floor of her childhood bedroom by Andromeda with Stepfather looming over them. He began to undo his belt…_

 _"_ _Pwease, Bewwa," she begged, shivering from the cold. "Pwease, you pwomised!"_

 _And then, from behind Stepfather, stepped Bellatrix, not as a child, but the way she was now, pregnant and half-mad._

 _"_ _You made me suffer for you," she said, pointing her wand at Narcissa. "You guilted me into taking your pain!"_

 _"_ _I'm sowwy!" Narcissa cried. Andromeda's fingernails dug into her wrists. "Bewwa, I'm sowwy! Pwease don't wet him wook at me!"_

 _"_ _Learn to speak properly," snapped Andromeda, digging her nails in deeper. "I learned to speak properly by age five. You're eight. What's wrong with you? You're too old for this baby talk. This is why all the other girls at school laugh at you. They hate you. They hate you like Mother hates you."_

 _"_ _No, she woves me!" insisted Narcissa. "She says so!"_

 _"_ _She lies!" snapped Bellatrix. "Mother lies! She knows what he does to us and she doesn't care. Do you think that's love? You don't know love, Narcissa. You never will. You're stupid and you're ugly and you're used up and broken and no one is ever going to love you."_

 _"_ _No one except me," said Stepfather, stepping closer. "I'll love you."_

 _"_ _No, pwease! Bewwa, do something! You can fight him! You pwacticed! You pwomised! Pwease!"_

 _A high pitched cackle from Stepfather made Narcissa's blood go cold. She watched in horror as his face morphed. The beard and brown hair disappeared, the yellow-green eyes turned red, and he became the Dark Lord._

 _"_ _As punishment for what you've done to your sister, I've assigned Draco the impossible task of murdering one of the greatest wizards alive today."_

 _"_ _No!" Narcissa shouted. Her body changed. She was no longer a little girl, but a young woman, wearing her wedding dress, her long blonde hair falling in tangles around her face, as it did on her wedding night, when Lucius wanted to make love but she cried, because the cramping warned her that she was soon going to lose their unborn baby._

 _"_ _No, my Lord, please, not Draco, not my only son!"_

 _From behind His back, the Dark Lord produced Draco – baby Draco, one year old, the same age Harry Potter was the night his parents were killed._

 _"_ _You made my most faithful and loyal servant suffer for many years and she's fallen into madness as a result. So, too, will you be driven into madness. It's only fair."_

 _The Dark Lord held up baby Draco, who began to cry. Narcissa tried to leap forward, to protect him, but she was still being held down… not by Andromeda now, but by Lucius._

 _"_ _Stop struggling, Narcissa," her husband hissed in her ear. "You're making it worse. Don't worry, once he's dead, we can make more."_

 _"_ _No!" she shouted again. "Please, my Lord, my son cannot be the one to kill Dumbledore! He'll never succeed! He's only a baby!"_

 _"_ _Dumbledore?" the Dark Lord laughed, clearly taken by surprise. "You misunderstand, Mrs. Malfoy. Dumbledore has been dead for years. No, your son is tasked with the murder of a different wizard." The Dark Lord snapped his fingers and from somewhere in the darkness behind him there was a noise. Into the light came Endora Selwyn and Juliet Rosier, dragging forward with them the limp, emaciated body of an obviously abused wizard in long, black robes. He lifted his head, looking directly into her eyes. In her head she heard the words, 'Clear your mind.'_

 _"_ _Severus!" she gasped. "What have they done to you?"_

 _Bellatrix, Endora, and Juliet cackled. The Dark Lord held up a hand to silence them so he could speak._

 _"_ _You will watch as Draco murders Severus Snape."_

 _"_ _Go on, Draco," coaxed Bellatrix, handing the baby her wand. He promptly stuck it in his mouth, as babies do with everything. "Go on, love. Do to him what the Dark Lord did to his only friend, Lily. Do to him what the Dark Lord did to the only woman Snape could ever love. Hit him with the Killing Curse!"_

 _"_ _Please, my Lord!" Narcissa began to sob, still struggling to escape Lucius' grasp. "Please, my Draco is only a baby! He doesn't know how!"_

 _"_ _Fine," said Bellatrix. She took the wand, pointed it at Severus, and rolled her eyes. "But why must I always be the one to save you, little sister?"_

 _"_ _No!" shouted the Dark Lord. He took the wand from Bella. "If the boy cannot complete the task I've assigned to him, then it is he who shall die!"_

 _The Dark Lord held baby Draco up by the back of his neck, touched the tip of the wand directly to his tiny temple, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"_

 _There was a flash of green light._

 _And it was over._

"Narcissa! Wake up! You're trembling. Narcissa?"

"I… I… I…" It took her several seconds to familiarize herself with her surroundings, to remember what year it was, to remember that she was in bed at Malfoy Manor with Severus Snape. She wrapped his arms tightly around her, breathing heavily. "I'm glad you're not dead."

"As am I," he said. "Were you having a nightmare?"

"Yes," she whispered. Her heart slowed to normal pace. She was cold, but sweating. "Just a nightmare. I'm glad you're not dead."

"You said that already. Did I die in your dream?"

"No," she said. "But only because Draco was too busy gumming up Bella's wand to kill you."

"I don't follow." He kept his arms firmly around her and pressed his lips to her neck. "What was your dream about?"

"It's… it doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're here. I'm… I'm glad you're my friend." She turned her head, reached her right hand up and back, twisting her back so she could reach him, and pulled him into a kiss, an action he eagerly reciprocated.

The grandfather clock in the corner struck three.

"It's the witching hour," whispered Narcissa, twisting her body even more so they could embrace more comfortably. The kiss grew in intensity as his left hand found its way to her breast, caressing her through the soft fabric of her cotton nightgown. "Yes," she murmured, arching her back in response to him as they traded kisses. "Yes… yes, Severus… I want this… please… I want to feel…"

"I'm not having sex with you in the bed you share with your husband," he said, for what felt (to her) like the thousandth time. But despite his words, he pushed her onto her back and slid up the nightdown so he could take her left breast in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hardened pebble in the center of her nipple, massaging the right with his other hand. As his mouth moved to the right side of her chest, she arched her back again, wanting so much more, wondering how far he would allow this to go. Hoping he wouldn't want to stop.

His lips and tongue traveled down from her chest, over her stomach, to her hips, to her thighs… he kissed and sucked at a spot on her inner thigh, as his fingers made their way to her center. He rubbed her through the fabric of her knickers before removing them entirely and replacing his fingers with his mouth. She moaned, tensing up, but he gently placed his hands on her inner thighs, and urged her to relax.

"I am relaxed," she lied.

"No, you're not," he said. He kissed just below her belly button. "Relax. It's okay."

"Why do you do this?" she asked curiously. "Simply because you know I love the way it feels? What do _you_ get out of it?"

"I like the way it makes you moan…" he said, moving his head back down between her legs. "And I love the way you taste."

As he worked his tongue and lips and fingers in her most intimate area, she felt the passion and tension building and building inside her, filling her lower belly, threatening to cause an explosion inside her head. She could barely breathe. She actually thought, for one wild moment, that she might pass out, and then it crashed over her in waves, a more powerful orgasm than she'd ever previously experienced, which lasted for several seconds and left her feeling simultaneously weak and heady.

"Damn," she murmured, struggling to regain some sense of herself.

He moved back up, resting his body flush against hers, and removed the nightgown altogether, discarding it on the floor.

"I'm not having sex with you…"

"Yes, yes, I know," she interjected impatiently. "Shut up and kiss me."

He did.

She could feel his arousal hard against her thigh. She reached down to stroke him, faster and faster, while he kissed and groped her, both desperate for more, but unable to attain it because of his stubborn insistence that they not have sex.

"On your back," she ordered. He obliged. And so she took him into her mouth, licking and sucking and trying to do for him as he'd done for her, though she knew she was not as skilled in this particular art form. He entagled his hand in her hair, encouraging her to continue, though eventually he could no longer take the teasing.

"Fuck," he swore, flipping her onto her back.

"What?"

"I was wrong about not having sex." He parted her legs and entered her, which elicited a gasp, followed by a moan, as they moved together as one, kissing and touching each other, whispering affirmations.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "Beyond beautiful…"

"Do you really love the way I taste?" she asked as his lips found her neck.

"Mm-hm."

"There are things I love about you, too," she said, as she met him thrust-for-thrust. "I love the way you touch me. The way you kiss me. I love the way it feels when you're inside me…"

This made him groan. He increased his speed. He was close.

"I love the way you listen when I talk. The way you seem to care about what I say…"

"I do care."

"I love that you care."

"Narcissa…" he paused his movements, painful as it was, and cupped her cheek, making eye contact. "There are things… things I…" Part of him wanted to say 'love about you, too,' but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to use the word, a word he reserved for Lily and Lily alone. And frankly, he was a bit annoyed with himself for having used it already, even though he was being honest in the moment. "But it's dangerous to think that way. If anyone… if you failed to clear your mind, and anyone… sensed… The strongest emotions are the hardest to hide."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be sorry. I like knowing…"

"I'll be more careful."

"We both have to be more careful."

She tilted her chin down, looking up at him, the way she had before the first time he'd kissed her, the way he couldn't resist.

"But for now…?"

"For now…" He pressed his lips to hers and resumed thrusting, harder and faster, as her nails dug into his shoulders, until he could no longer hold back, finishing inside her.

Again, she fell asleep contentedly in his arms. This time, she did not dream. When they awoke, it was past time for him to return to Hogwarts. He took a quick shower, dressed, and kissed her goodbye as briefly as he could.

"I'm sorry you're going to be late," she said between kisses. "Do you regret spending the night?"

"Not at all."

"Good."

He hurried out, hoping not to meet Bellatrix or the Dark Lord in the halls.

She retrieved her nightgown from the floor, slipped it over her head, snuggled comfortably back under the covers, and, for the third time since midnight, was soon sound asleep.

* * *

 **A/N:**  
 **Vani12** \- Thank you! Your review made me so happy! Regarding the Q in your PS, the time turner plays a smallish role much later in this fic, with Cursed Child spoilers, but it's not a significant part of the plot for the time being... :)

 **Half-as-beautiful** \- Thrilled that you noticed the hair thing! I like her with both looks too so it was fun to morph from one to the other.

 **Harry Hobbit** \- that's one of my favorite lines in the whole series, which is why I couldn't resist fitting it in. Also Bella is not a vampire, I just think there's something very crazy and sexy and intimidating about licking the blood off her hand while addressing Juliet. lol

T **rickster32, Elphaba, Everything Hurts, Popular Cats, AnotherDarkShado,** & to my newest followers - Thanks for reading! And also thanks for any reviews!  
 **AL**


	26. Flashback: February 4, 1973

**Chapter Twenty-six – Flashback: February 4** **th** **, 1973**

On February 4th, 1973, seventeen-year-old Narcissa Elladora Black vowed to honor and obey the only man she'd ever dated, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, with whom she was in love and by whom she was, as her new mother-in-law so aptly put it, "prematurely knocked up."

They told everyone they knew that they'd become engaged over the Christmas holiday in 1972, then hadn't made it public right away because she was still in school, but the truth was that she'd gotten pregnant over the Christmas holiday… accidentally, he thought, but in truth she had simply ceased making or taking the birth control potion once she realized he was considering dumping her for Eleanor Nott, his friend's older sister, with whom he was working at the Ministry. Five weeks later, when she was certain she was expecting, she Owled the news to her mother, who demanded she be permitted to leave Hogwarts for the weekend – it was a Hogsmeade weekend – so Druella could drag her youngest daughter to the Malfoy's manor and demand their son "do the right thing." His mother, in a state of disbelief, demanded she first be examined by the family Mediwitch, who confirmed that she was, indeed, with child.

Lucius' parents' responses were mixed. Abraxas Malfoy said he thought Narcissa was attractive, dignified, well-mannered, and obedient, in addition to being from a solid pureblood family, and was therefore a fine match for his only son, whereas Claudia Malfoy thought Narcissa was wholly unremarkable and "clearly easy," and did not present herself as uppercrust enough to be worthy of the Malfoys' precious heir.

In the end, though, it was Lucius who had the final say, and he said he would marry her. Which he did. Exactly one week later.

It was a lovely wedding, albeit much smaller than what Claudia Malfoy would have liked for her darling boy. They weren't able to plan anything grander or more involved due to time constraints – they had to avoid the possibility of Narcissa beginning to 'show' before they were wed.

It was a Sunday. It snowed. They did it on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, under a large glass dome enchanted to stay warm on the inside, but cold enough that the snowflakes did not melt immediately upon touching its surface above them. Like in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, lit candles levitated high above their heads.

Narcissa's mother was present, as was her eldest sister, Bellatrix, and Bella's fiancé Rodolphus, plus Narcissa's father's sister Walburga (with husband Orion with son Regulus, eleven), and her paternal grandparents, Pollux and Irma (Crabbe) Black. No one from the Rosier side of the family attended, which suited Narcissa fine, as she'd never been terribly close to her mother's brother or his children, Zillah and Evan, and hadn't even met his second wife or baby daughter. Additionally, those missing from the guest list included cousin Sirius, who was away at Hogwarts but wouldn't have come anyway if given the choice, and middle Black sister Andromeda, who was expecting her first child with her Muggleborn husband and had therefore been appropriately cast out of the family.

Lucius' paternal grandfather had passed away five years prior, but his grandmother and maternal grandparents were in attendance, as were his parents, plus Claudia's sister and her husband, and their four children.

Lucius also invited his then-closest friend, Vincent Crabbe, who happened to be distantly related to Narcissa on her father's mother's side, and two other friends from his Hogwarts days, Theodore Nott (Eleanor's younger brother, who had been a year ahead of Narcissa) and Walden Macnair (a sallow-faced man Lucius' age who had always given Narcissa the creeps). Nott came alone but Macnair brought his fiancée, a timid girl from Austria.

Crabbe served as Lucius' Best Man, while Narcissa's sister Bellatrix stood with her as Maid-of-Honor. Her father's father, whom she hadn't seen in at least five years, walked her down the aisle, which was a little awkward, and Lucius' adorable youngest cousin, Cassia, was pleased to be the Flower Girl.

During the ceremony, Narcissa felt nervous and exposed and borderline sick. Her sister assured her she looked beautiful – "I won't look half as beautiful as you when I get married and you know it!" – but was afraid everyone could tell she was pregnant thus everyone would know the real reason he'd consented to marry her.

She wore the same white dress woven with subtle accents of real silver and gold thread that her mother had worn during her first wedding (to Narcissa's father) which was also the dress Narcissa's maternal grandmother had worn at hers. Knowing what she did about her mother's father, she was glad her grandparents weren't there. They had passed away within hours of each other the year before after contracting Dragon Pox on holiday.

"My mother would have loved seeing you in her dress," said Narcissa's mother, Druella, while she did up Narcissa's waist-length white-blonde hair. She curled the hanging tresses and carefully placed a gilded rose above her ear. She added with a trace of bitterness, "And I'm so very happy I'm going to get to see _one_ of my daughters get married before I die."

Bellatrix, who was seated behind them scratching the gold polish off her fingernails, huffed at this.

"You're going to see _me_ get married in June, Mother. Or are you planning to keel the fuck over within the next three bloody months?"

"That language, Bellatrix!" Druella scolded. "Try to present yourself with some semblance of decorum today, will you? For your sister's sake. She's marrying a Malfoy. They won't abide by such classlessness."

"I'll be on my very best behavior," promised Bellatrix, rolling her eyes. "For fuck's sake."

"I don't know why we even allowed you to attend," said Druella, returning to Narcissa's hair.

"Because Cissy is my baby sister and I want to be there when she becomes the property of that self-involved smarmy letch."

"Bellatrix!" snipped Druella.

"Mother!" mocked Bellatrix.

"Stop it!" Druella glared at her eldest daughter, as she so often did, completely at a loss for how she could have raised such an insubordinate bitch.

"Well I'm sorry, Mother, but I don't see why Cissy's marrying him at all! She's seventeen, for the love of Merlin! She should be in school! She should be studying for her NEWTs. Even I sat for my NEWTs! Besides, she can do better than Lucius Malfoy. I've never liked him. Why did you say yes, Cissy? Why don't you wait for someone better to come along?"

Bellatrix, already a skilled Occlumens, had yet to master Legilimency thus had no idea that her sister was pregnant.

"It's not too late to change your mind," Bellatrix went on, moving to Narcissa's side, catching her eye in the mirror. "Just because he's the only man you've ever had doesn't mean he's the only man you'll ever have."

"He loves her and she loves him," snapped Druella. "It's a fine match, as Abraxas said last week. We come from a good pureblood family with a strong bloodline and so do the Malfoys. The Malfoys, like the Blacks and Rosiers, are members of the Sacred 28, as you well know."

"So are the Lestranges," Bellatrix pointed out, "But you don't seem quite as keen to see me married off to Rodolphus as you do to see Cissy with Malfoy."

"Trust me," said Druella, who was fixing one of Narcissa's curls, which had gone limp, "I'm thrilled that he's come along to take you away from me."

"You're not bothered by the fact that they're rich either, are you?"

Druella ignored Bellatrix. "Your sister and Lucius Malfoy will produce fine children."

"He's hit on me before," said Bellatrix. She tugged one of Narcissa's loose curls. "He's going to cheat on her. All of those Malfoy men are philanderers. His father is rumored to have at least three bastard children scattered across Europe. Probably more. You don't have to do this, Cissy."

Narcissa bit her lip. Should she tell Bella about the baby? Would that make things better… or worse?

"Bellatrix!" Druella smacked her eldest daughter on the thigh. "Leave her be! Don't worry, my dear girl, he won't be unfaithful you. And if he is…"

" _When_ he is," Bellatrix cut in.

"It won't matter, will it? Men… men have a much more difficult time with monogamy than we women do. But looking for physical release away from your bed at night doesn't matter so long as it's you he returns home to you in the mornings. A good wife looks the other way and…"

"So you think she shouldn't mind him cheating on her because that's what men do?" interjected Bellatrix. "A good wife looks the other way? Suddenly our childhood makes so much sense. You weren't being a bad mother; you were being a good wife."

Druella's eyes flashed. She opened her mouth, set to light into her eldest daughter, but quietly Narcissa spoke up.

"He loves me, Bella. And I love him."

"You should finish school, Cissy," insisted Bellatrix. "Put this off for a year. Just one year. If you still want to marry him in a year…"

"No! It has to be now!" Druella bumped Bellatrix aside, so that Narcissa could no longer see her sister in the mirror. "If she waits a year, he may be the one to change his mind. He may find someone else and we'll have lost the opportunity, and a chance like this will not present itself again!"

"I want better for you, Cissy," Bellatrix said, tugging her sister's hair again. "I want more for your life than to be the wife of Lucius Malfoy."

"There is no better," whispered Narcissa. "I'm not good at anything. I'm not like you, Bella. My future is in being a wife and mother…"

"Not just any wife!" exclaimed Druella. "You're going to be the sort of wife other wives envy, married to a man they'd give their eye-teeth to have. You won't be a housewife, Narcissa…"

"You'll be a trophy wife," said Bellatrix dejectedly, moving back to the chair by the wall.

"You'll be a trophy wife!" said Druella contentedly, giving Cissy's shoulders a squeeze. "You'll have the best of everything. You'll be better than everyone, the two of you, and your children too. You'll live a life of privilege and honor! It's all I've ever wanted for you, Narcissa, my most beautiful and dignified daughter, the one for whom I've had the highest hopes, the one I've successfully raised to be exactly what I've always wanted in a daughter, the prettiest and purest of my girls, the one I've loved the most and been the closest to, not like your bloodtraitor sister Andromeda or that combative headstrong cunt Bellatrix…"

"Hello! I'm right the fuck over here, Mother," called Bellatrix, raising her hand as if in class. "And would you mind not using the word cunt? If the Malfoys hear that sort of language they'll think we Blacks are completely fucking classless."

"Quiet, Bellatrix." Druella kissed Narcissa gently on the cheek, then swiveled the chair one third of the way around so she could start working on her daughter's makeup. "This is good for us, Narcissa. Don't listen to your sister. He loves you and you love him and we both know this is for the best, because if you don't marry him today, you know as well as I that it's unlikely anyone else is going to want you. Looks only get you so far, especially now, considering."

Narcissa's eyes brimmed with tears. Though the truth was that she'd gotten pregnant on purpose in a panic when she realized Lucius was interested in someone else, it hurt to realize her own mother believed as she did, that no other man would want her.

"Don't listen to her, Cissy," said Bellatrix. She swiveled the chair so the sisters were facing each other. "You have more to offer than the fact that you're pretty…"

"Ignore your sister," said Druella, swiveling her back. "Close your eyes. This eye shadow will look lovely on you…"

An hour later, Narcissa stood in front of an Officiate from the Ministry, clutching hands with Lucius, her sister beside her, with Crabbe beside Lucius.

Narcissa promised to love, honor, and obey her husband, for as long as they both shall live. Lucius promised to provide for his wife and their future children and to be faithful until death do them part.

It wasn't until much later it occurred to Narcissa to wonder why her vow was meant to last for as long as they both lived, meaning she should love, honor, and obey him until her own passing even if he went first, while his vow was good only until death parted them.

When it was time, when their union was official, Lucius kissed her, and the nervous feeling causing pain in the pit of her gut subsided for the moment, replaced by relief. They were married. He had married her. He wasn't going to leave her for Eleanor Nott and she wasn't going to have to be an unwed mother that no other man would ever want.

And suddenly she felt like everything was going to be alright.

"I love you, Narcissa," he murmured in her ear, just after the kiss, his fingers brushing against her hip. "I love that you're my wife."

"I love you too, Lucius." She kissed him again, but on the cheek, afraid anything else would lack the decorum her mother insisted she exhibit. "I love that you're my husband."

The reception was pleasant. There was a formal meal followed by a little dancing. Lucius and Narcissa danced together, of course, then he danced with his mother and she with her grandfather, which was (for her) uncomfortable. Then he danced with her mother and she with his father, which was uncomfortable in a different way (Abraxas held her closer than she would have liked). She even attempted to waltz with cousin Regulus, who only stood to her shoulder, while Lucius twirled around five-year-old Cassia, prompting Claudia Malfoy to exclaim, "Both so good with children. What wonderful parents they'll be!"

Bellatrix abstained from alcohol except during the toast, afraid it would inhibit her ability to remain on her 'best behavior.' Rodolphus, on the other hand, drank heartily, which turned his cheeks red under his beard.

When the festivities were winding down, the five children struck up a game of Wizards Chess (Regulus and Cassia versus Cassia's siblings) while Lucius shared a bottle of the good brandy, a gift from his father, with the men, so the women settled around a table drinking tea and chatting about the future – mostly about babies. Baby names were of particular interest to all (except Bellatrix) even though only Druella and Lucius' mother knew she was already pregnant.

"I think you should continue the Black family tradition of naming babies after stars and constellations," said Aunt Walburga. "I did so with Sirius and Regulus. Druella, you did it with Bellatrix and Andromeda. What happened with Narcissa?"

"Their father and I named the first two together," Druella explained. "But Narcissa was named for my mother's mother. She passed away when I was expecting, so it seemed fitting."

Irma Black agreed with Aunt Walburga, but Claudia Malfoy thought if they had a son it should be named for his father.

"I named my son Lucius Abraxas, for his father, but in retrospect wish I'd done the opposite. I could have given him the formal name Abraxas Lucius and called him by his second name."

"I think using the father's first name as the son's middle name is better," countered Lucius' plump Aunt Catheryn, sister of Claudia, mother of the four little cousins. "That's why Horatio's second name is Roger."

"I think constellation names are nice," said Macnair's fiancée quietly. It was the first time she'd spoken all conversation. "For a boy, you could go with Perseus or Draco or Cygnus, and for a girl, Aquila or Norma or Hydra. I love constellations and stars. I studied Astronomy through all seven years at Durmstrang."

"Cygnus is a family name," said Grandmother Irma Black approvingly. "I named my son Cygnus. He was the girls' father. You should name your firstborn son Cygnus Lucius, Narcissa."

"That's… it's a lot to think about," Narcissa said softly, resisting the urge to touch her midsection. She was feeling that pain again, like she'd been while getting ready and all through the ceremony. It hurt. Like pre-cycle cramping, only not as severe. As she had earlier, she attributed it to nerves, figuring she was merely afraid they'd discover her secret.

"Have a boy first," said Claudia. "Carrying on the family name is what's most important. Name him after my Lucius and you can call him Cygnus. Lucius Cygnus Malfoy. That's an acceptable name."

"What if he has a lisp?" asked Narcissa timidly, remembering her own childhood speech impediment. "He'll call himself 'Thignith Luthiuth.' Doesn't that seem like a bit of a risk?"

"Lucius Cygnus Malfoy," said Claudia. "It's perfect."

"Perfect," agreed Walburga.

"I preferred it the other way around," said Irma.

"Cygnus Lucius," said Druella.

Narcissa sighed. It was as if no one had heard her.

"Just as long as it's a boy!" said Catheryn. "I was fortunate to have Horatio first. If I'd had the three girls before him, I'd have been a nervous wreck by the time I conceived for the last time!"

"How far apart are yours?" asked Druella.

"A bit over a year between each. Cassia's five now, Tacita's just turned seven, Octavia is eight, and Horatio is almost ten. The most important thing is to start trying as soon as you're married. It took us three years to conceive Horatio and trust me, you don't want to still be having babies once you're over thirty-five. I had my last at thirty-two and that was old enough, thank you."

"It's smart to have them right away and so close like that," agreed Claudia. "Get it out of the way. I was eighteen when I got married and nineteen when Lucius was born. He's my only one… we couldn't have more. But I wanted three, each two years apart, like you had, Druella."

"I only have two now," Druella said.

"We don't speak of the middle child," explained Aunt Walburga. "She ran off with a filthy Mudblood, a slap in the face of her ancestors. Now, my boys were born sixteen months apart, which I thought was perfect, though I was trying for exactly one year, but I didn't marry young. They're getting old fast, though. Sirius turned thirteen in November; Regulus turns twelve next month. Two were all I wanted though sometimes now I wish I'd had a girl too. Especially with Sirius being… the way he is."

"He's in Gryffindor," Druella informed the other women, who reacted with a mix of shock and revulsion. "Good friends with a boy named Potter and a half-blood called Lupin. It's embarrassing."

"Gryffindor is the worst house," said Claudia. "Worse than Hufflepuff. There's never been a Malfoy or a Fawley in Gryffindor!"

"At least I have my Regulus," said Walburga. "He's the spitting image of his father. I can count on him to carry on the Black family name and do us proud."

"Three is a good number," Druella concurred. "This way, should you have to cast one out, you have two more to fall back on."

"So it's settled then," said Claudia Malfoy. "At least three children, each approximately one to two years apart, with stars or constellations for their first names, save for the firstborn son, Lucius Cygnus."

"Indeed," agreed Mother Druella. Aunt Walburga, Grandmother Irma, and Claudia's sister Catheryn nodded their approval.

"Okay," whispered Narcissa, anxiously twirling her hair. Her mother slapped her hand down.

Bellatrix, who'd remained silent up to this point, snorted.

"Oh, for the love of…" She squeezed her sister's just-slapped hand. "Cissy, darling, honestly, I think you should forget all of these bloody awful suggestions and name your future sons or daughters something _you_ like, since you'll be the one shouting the little brats' names every time they misbehave," said Bellatrix. Her mother shot her a sharp look. "And if you want to have three, have three, but if you only want one, for the love of fucking Merlin, only have one! More than anything, though, I think you shouldn't rush into reproducing. Wait a few years, at least until the Dark Lord has conquered all of Wizarding Europe. Then you can rest assured you're raising your children in a better environment, where being pureblood is celebrated and…"

"Hush!" said Claudia Malfoy. She dropped her voice. "Someone could hear you!"

"So?" asked Bellatrix.

"So we'd all like to see You-Know-Who succeed in His attempts to purify the Wizarding world, but until the Ministry has ceased their attempts to fight him, it is not prudent to speak His praises so loudly when in mixed company…"

"I wasn't aware that we're in mixed company," said Bellatrix coolly. Druella pinched her daughter's wrist in warning, which Bella ignored. "Aren't the Blacks and the Malfoys and the Rosiers and the Fawleys all among the Sacred 28? Aren't we all pureblood? It would be an insult to our ancestors to pledge allegiance to anyone but the Dark Lord."

"That Ministry Officiate is still here," explained Claudia Malfoy (whose maiden name was Fawley). "We don't know where he stands, but suffice it to say we don't want to give the Ministry any cause to go poking around in our business… they've been raiding pureblood Wizards' homes as of late, and while the name Malfoy still carries enough prestige that they'd yet to attempt to come after us, we worry it is only a matter of time… especially as You-Know-Who gets stronger… and the Ministry and Dumbledore's Order get more desperate."

"Do you think it's real, then?" asked Narcissa in a whisper. "You think Dumbledore's 'Order of the Phoenix' exists and they're out there fighting back against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"The Dark Lord believes the Order is real," said Bellatrix, not offering up how she knew this. "He says we need to track down their members and… eliminate them."

This put a rare smile on the face of Aunt Walburga. "Speaking of… Did you hear about Gideon and Fabian Prewett?"

"No," said Catheryn in a hushed tone. "What happened?"

"Murdered," said Walburga. "A few weeks ago. It was in the Daily Prophet."

"I say!" exclaimed Grandmother Irma Black. "Good riddance to bad rubbish! Filthy blood traitor scum. Did you hear about their younger sister? Girl ran off and eloped with Arthur Weasley a few years back."

"Weasley? King of the Blood Traitors," spat Walburga.

"They've got children now," Irma continued. "I saw her recently, wrangled two red-headed monsters around Diagon Alley. They're related to Walburga, through Orion's sister Lucretia. Her husband is a Prewett."

"Don't remind me! Though, in my sister-in-law's defense, the Prewetts are among the Sacred 28."

"Well, they _were_ ," said Irma. "Now they're extinct, save for Molly Weasley."

"Did you ask Molly how her brothers are doing, Gran?" asked Bellatrix, grinning wickedly. "You should have."

Irma shook her head, looking repulsed. "I wouldn't lower myself to speak to her."

Claudia Malfoy patted Irma Black's hand. "Nor would I!"

Catheryn raised her china teacup as if in toast. "May all of Dumbledore's men go the way of the Prewett brothers," she said. Everyone murmured their agreement, save for Narcissa, who was distracted by the increasingly uncomfortable cramping in her lower midsection.

"Molly Prewett was a Gryffindor Prefect my first year at Hogwarts," said Bellatrix. "A few years later Arthur Weasley was Head Boy but he nearly got his title stripped away after being caught out of bed at four in the morning following a tryst with her. Everyone knew about it, the nasty little slag. She didn't get caught, but everyone knew."

Narcissa's mother found this vitriol from her eldest daughter interesting, considering that Bellatrix had actually gotten _her_ Head Girl appointment revoked after sneaking away from Hogsmeade to spend an entire weekend with a mystery man with whom she was presumably having an affair. (Though Narcissa wouldn't know it until many years later, when she learned that the mystery man was the Dark Lord Himself.)

"I heard about the murders," said Macnair's fiancée, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Walden works for the Ministry. He says they're certain the Prewetts were murdered by followers of You-Know-Who and are working to track them down, but he hopes whomever it was gets away with it. One thing is certain: the Ministry says they must have been very powerful witches or wizards to have taken those brothers down!"

"That's right!" confirmed Bellatrix, puffing up proudly. "The Prewetts fought hard, but they were no match for Rodol…"

"Bellatrix!" hissed Druella. "Say no more. That Ministry Officiate is walking over…"

"So bloody what?" asked Bellatrix loudly. "The Dark Lord will be our savior, sent to deliver us from a Wizarding world full of Mudbloods and Muggle filth and we should all do our part to assist him! That's where I stand and I don't care who knows it."

"Bella, hush!"

"Ladies!" The Ministry Officiate tipped his hat. "It's been a pleasure, but I'm afraid I must be off. Ministry business. Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Malfoy, Mrs. Black. It was a lovely wedding."

"And thank you," said Claudia Malfoy, standing to shake his hand. "My husband handled your payment?"

"He did. Congratulations to the bride…" He nodded at Narcissa. "And, for what it's worth…" He turned his gaze to Bellatrix. "There are those of us in the Ministry who have to hide our views for the time being only being it is inadvisable to speak out against the Minister and his administration, but we, too, realize it is only a matter of time before we can communicate more candidly about where our loyalties lie… and it is a day to which we look forward…" He tapped his left forearm, making eye contact with Bella. "We in the Ministry who share such views do not always know who to trust, but we are _mark_ edly fortunate to have found each other."

A slow, knowing smile grew across Bellatrix's face. She stood to shake hands with the Ministry Officiate as Claudia and her mother had. "I understand," she said, gaze darting briefly down to her own left forearm. The fact that the Dark Lord had branded the Dark Mark into the skin of his followers was still kept such a closely-guarded secret she was reasonably certain the Officiate wouldn't know unless he'd received it, though she would certainly be asking Him about it at first opportunity.

With another tip of his hat, the Ministry Officiate departed.

"Are you one of them?" hissed Aunt Walburga, interested in her eldest niece for the first time since the girl was born. "One of You-Know-Who's… what do they call them? Death Eaters?"

"I don't know why you'd think so," said Bellatrix innocently. Though she was too smart to outwardly admit to being one, she was also too arrogant to deny it. "But I won't be shy about saying I think He's got the right idea… and I wasn't sad to say goodbye to the Prewett brothers."

"Bella!" whispered Narcissa, looking repulsed. Though she hadn't known the Prewett brothers, and though she, too, thought the Dark Lord had the right idea about keeping Magic in the hands and wands of those who deserved it, the thought that her beloved older sister had committed murder – _murder!_ – horrified her.

"You cheated!" shouted Horatio, grabbing the white queen out of Cassia's hand and throwing it down on the floor. "Mum! Cassia's cheating!"

"Am not!" she insisted, on the verge of tears. "Horatio's lying!"

"You're the one who's lying, you crybaby!"

"No, you are!"

"You are!"

"You are and you know it!"

"You are and you're ugly!"

"MUMMMYYYY!" shouted Cassia.

"I think that's a sign it's time to go," said Lucius' Aunt Catheryn, rising with a sigh. By the time she reached the children, Cassia was crying, Horatio had broken two more chess pieces, Octavia was whining that her tummy hurt from too much cake, and Tacita was insisting she was exhausted, couldn't walk, and would need to be carried.

"This is why I hate kids," said Regulus, sounding far older than eleven.

"Me, too," whispered Narcissa. She looked fearfully toward her mother.

"It's different when they're your own," Druella insisted. She, Bellatrix, and Narcissa winced in unison as Cassia kicked Horatio hard in the shin.

Shortly thereafter, Lucius and Narcissa bid their remaining family members (and Lucius' friends) farewell. While Lucius was shaking hands with Crabbe and promising they would get together again as soon as the new couple returned from their honeymoon, Bellatrix hugged Narcissa and hissed in her ear, "It's not too late to escape."

Then Mother hugged her. "I know you have the baby to consider," she whispered, "But for tonight, at least, do whatever he wants to."

"But Mother," Narcissa whispered back. "I don't feel well."

"It doesn't matter how you feel. You'll consummate the union and you'll pretend to like it. Understand?"

"I understand," Narcissa conceded. Over Mother's shoulder, Bella mouthed, "Not too late!"

Lucius's parents took turns hugging Narcissa goodbye. His mother did so as if it physically pained her to touch her son's new wife, whereas his father held her too tightly for too long, until Lucius had to help extricate her from Abraxas' grasp.

"We'll see you in one week," said Claudia, embracing her son for the fourth time. By then the Malfoys house elves should have finished moving Narcissa's modest possessions from her mother's home to the manor – namely clothes and cosmetics, a few priceless heirlooms, her school trunk, and Babbity Rabbity, the graying stuffed bunny she still slept with.

Her sister was the last person to whom they said goodbye, and, for Narcissa, the hardest to leave. Not for the first time that day, Narcissa wished Andromeda had been there too.

"Bellatrix," said Lucius, smirking at her in that way he always did.

"Malfoy," replied Bellatrix coldly.

The newlyweds took a Portkey to the small Wizarding village in Dubai where they'd be spending the week. A couple of hours later, Lucius was ready to, as her mother put it, 'consummate the union.' Narcissa, in even more pain than she'd felt that morning, was not.

She didn't tell him this, however.

She let him kiss her and kissed him back. She let him touch her and touched him back.

But when he climbed on top of her, she burst into tears.

"What's wrong?" he asked, moving away immediately, concern evident on his face. "What did I do?" At twenty, he was already an arrogant and narcissistic man, especially when in front of his friends or those he deemed beneath him, but when alone with Narcissa he was uncharacteristically considerate of her feelings, careful never to rush her or make her uncomfortable, with awareness of her childhood trauma always in the back of his mind.

But even though he'd always been patient and kind with her in private and had no reason to fear marriage would change that, she couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell him she hurt. She couldn't tell him she was afraid she might end up losing their baby. She was probably worrying over nothing, she told herself. After all, she was only mildly cramping. There was no blood.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just… overwhelmed."

"It's okay," Lucius said, pushing his long blond hair away from his face, half-smiling. He looked so handsome. She really, truly did love him. And she believed he felt the same about her. "We don't have to do it, Narcissa. We can wait until tomorrow, if you want."

This made her cry harder.

"You're too good to me!" Her hair, which she'd taken down, fell in loose curls around her, touching the bed when she leaned forward to shield her face from him.

"Narcissa!" He chuckled, rubbed her back soothingly, and kissed the top of her head. "It's fine. For the first time, we'll get to spend the night together. So even if we don't do anything, that's something, right? We don't have to sneak around anymore."

"But do you love me?" she asked, looking tearfully up at him. "Or are you angry because you had to marry me, because I'm… because I'm…"

"I would've married you anyway," he assured her. "Probably not for another year or two. But I've known since I asked you to Slughorn's Valentine's party four years ago that I was going to marry you sooner or later. You're perfect."

She rubbed her eyes, smudging her eye makeup, and breathed shakily as she tried to calm down. "You think I'm perfect?"

"Yes," he said. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "Even though your face is currently covered in black streaks like a chimney sweep, I think you're perfect."

"I don't deserve you," she whispered. He kissed her.

Then, even though it hurt, they consummated the marriage, as was expected.

The next morning, the bleeding started.

* * *

 **A/N:** I made a few changes to the ages and death dates of some of the Malfoy and Black family members. According to one Black family tree, Narcissa's father Cygnus died in 1979, though other sources say 1992, but I killed him off in 1958 so Mother (Druella Rosier) could marry Stepfather. I also aged Narcissa's paternal grandfather because it says he, like Cygnus, was 13 when his first child was born, which is just weird.

Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius' father, is listed as having died around 1968 but I decided to keep him alive for another decade so he could attend their wedding. I don't know anything about Lucius' mother's relatives, so I just invented them/their names.

Gideon and Fabian Prewett (Molly Weasley's brothers) were actually killed by Dolohov and four unnamed Death Eaters in 1981, not in 1973, so I deviated from Canon there, but they really are related to the Blacks through marriage, though Lucretia and Ignatius are Molly's aunt and uncle, not her parents.

The rest of what I wrote here, though, is accurate according to JKR's Black family tapestry and available info about the Malfoys/Prewetts/Weasleys.


	27. February 4, 1998

**Chapter Twenty-seven – February 4** **th** **, 1998**

"Good morning, darling."

Lucius had been awake and dressed for over three hours before he climbed back into bed with his wife, gently shook her out of a sound sleep, and kissed her cheek.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, attempting to hide her head under the blankets.

"Nine-thirty."

"In the morning?"

"Yes, dear." He chuckled, attempting to pull the blankets away from her face.

"Go away, Lucius. I'm sleeping. I have a headache because I'm overtired."

He chuckled again. "You have a headache because you drank an entire bottle of red wine by yourself last night then chased it down with Dreamless Sleep and a sedative."

"No, I'm overtired. I've only been asleep for…" She tried doing the math but her mind seemed to be moving abnormally slowly.

"Eleven hours, dear," he supplied. "You've been asleep for eleven hours. Time to wake up. Do you remember what today is?"

"Thursday?"

"It's Wednesday, but that's not what I meant. It's February 4th, 1998. As of this afternoon, we've been married for twenty-five years exactly."

Narcissa forced her eyes open. Lucius was leaning over her, smiling. Despite the pounding in her head, she couldn't help smiling back.

"Did you get me a present?" she asked hopefully.

"You've become very predictable in the last two and a half decades," he teased. He produced a square black box from behind his back. "But yes, of course I did. Did you get one for me?"

"I figure I'll just owe you sex, if you're in the mood," she said, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss, which he reciprocated, but cut short.

"You owe me sex when I'm in the mood regardless of whether it's our anniversary," he said. He'd told her this before, and though she knew he was half-teasing her, she couldn't help remembering Severus' words when she threw herself at him the night he completed Draco's task: _"You never owe_ anybody _sex."_ To believe this required a mindset that was completely contrary to that of her mother's.

"Fine. In that case, I also plan to cook you dinner and grant you use of my wand for the entire day."

"I'll take the wand, but I'll pass on the dinner. You know how I feel about you in the kitchen…" Lucius kissed the corner of her mouth. "Besides, I thought I should take you out. You've been stuck inside Malfoy Manor for weeks, haven't you?"

"I have," she confirmed. "And I'm genuinely sorry I didn't get you a gift. The days all run together now, especially since I'm not permitted out of the Manor, so I had no idea January had even ended."

"It is of no concern to me." He kissed her again. "But I'll take that sex now…"

"I want my present first!" She reached for the box but he held it up out of reach.

"You can have it immediately after dinner tonight."

"Then you can have sex immediately after dinner tonight."

"I think the other restaurant patrons might take issue with that, dear."

"Very well," she conceded. Her cheeks flushed as the memory of her recent tryst with Severus flashed through her mind. Lucius didn't seem to notice the blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Do you remember our wedding day?" he asked, moving aside her hair to kiss gently below her ear. "Your hair was up in those curls, you had on just a hint of makeup, you wore that dress you hated…"

"It was my grandmother's dress. It was old-fashioned and too tight across my chest."

"You looked stunning." He kissed her below the ear again and, despite the feelings she couldn't deny she'd developed for Severus, she couldn't resist tilting her head to grant him better access, enjoying not only the sensation, but the attention.

"Right after the ceremony concluded, you told me you love that I'm your wife," said Narcissa, as Lucius switched from kissing that spot to sucking on it, the way he used to when they were teenagers, though it had been many years since he last left a mark. "Do you still love that I'm your wife?"

"Let's not fight, Narcissa."

"I'm not trying to fight, Lucius. I truly want to know. After twenty-five years, do you still love being married to me?"

"If I didn't," he said, pausing to move his lips down her neck to her shoulder, "You would no longer be my wife."

"So if you were unhappy with me, or bored, or out of love, you would divorce me?"

He sighed, clearly growing annoyed. "Stop it. Just as it was on the day we married, I love you, and you love me, and yes, I love being married to you. Satisfied?"

"I suppose…"

He resumed kissing her and she responded, but less enthusiastically.

"Narcissa, do you remember the first time we were together?"

This memory made her smile. "In the Astronomy tower?"

"In the Astronomy tower. In our Hogwarts uniforms. They'd just switched from the one piece for girls to the jumper with unattached skirt, remember? It made it much easier for me to feel you up against the wall without taking anything off."

"You could still do that once in awhile, you know," she said coyly, bringing his hand to rest on her chest. "Feel me up against a wall."

He took this as an invitation to begin undressing her, but she, afraid they would end up having the same dull missionary style sex that failed to provide her with any physical release that had become customary in their marriage over the past few years, stopped him.

"No," she said. "I want you to keep talking to me."

"What?"

"Tell me about our first time," she said. "It was almost thirty years ago. What do you remember?"

"Oh." He rolled off her, onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling. "I remember that it was a Wednesday night. We always sneaked out on Tuesdays or Wednesdays because most students broke curfew on the weekends and served detention on Mondays or Thursdays, so we were the least likely to get caught in the middle of the week."

"We were smart little rule breakers," she interjected.

"We sneaked up to the Astronomy tower separately. I arrived first and spent a good fifteen minutes worried you were going to get cold feet and stand me up."

"You did not!"

"I did!" He rolled onto his stomach, wrapping his arm around his wife's waist. "But, finally, you showed, and you looked terrified, like you were being led to the executioner."

"I did not!"

"You did!" He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. "So we sat on the floor and just talked. You looked even more beautiful than usual bathed in the moonlight and I wanted you so badly it hurt worse than the Cruciatus. After an hour or so you consented to letting me kiss you and once I started I couldn't stop. I almost managed to get into your knickers but then you said no, stood up, and said you thought we should go, even though you'd previously promised you were ready."

"In my defense, I thought I was ready."

"I convinced you to stay a little longer… you were leaning against the wall by the window… I kissed you…" He kissed her now. "I put my hand up your blouse…" He slid one hand up under her nightgown. "You let me touch you here…" He slipped his fingers between her legs. "And you said you liked it."

"I liked it because I liked you," she said. "I was so afraid… then."

"I was careful not to hurt you, though, wasn't I?" He continued to caress her through the fabric of her knickers. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Yes… yes, you were careful…"

"When you were ready, I asked if we could lie down on the floor of the Astronomy tower. I transfigured my robe into a blanket for under us and your robe into a second blanket to put over us, and you let me get on top of you…"

He moved on top of her now, their lips crashing together, as they had that first time.

"You rubbed me through my uniform trousers… I showed you what I liked…" He took her hand and placed it on his groin. She could feel his arousal through the fabric. "I pushed up your skirt…" He pushed up her nightgown so the material was bunched at her waist, then he removed her underwear, just as he had in the Astronomy tower, and moved one hand up to her chest, beneath her clothes, teasing her with the other hand.

"And I did this…" she murmured, freeing him from his slacks, stroking him, letting the tip press against her, but not allowing any more.

"Damn, Narcissa," he moaned as she quickened her pace, squeezing and releasing, knowing from nearly three decades of experience how best to please him. "You're so much better…"

"Better than what?" she asked, moving her hand faster. "Better than I used to be? Or better than the other women you've slept with since we got married?"

"Both," he said, and to her surprise she was less annoyed by this answer than she would've been if he'd lied.

"Then why won't you let me do other things?" she asked. "Why won't you let me use my mouth, I could su–"

"Because you're my wife, Narcissa!" he snapped, cutting her off. "Such acts are beneath you."

"You liked it a few weeks ago…"

"Don't talk," he said. "You're distracting me."

She rolled her eyes. This was not a new argument, though they'd had it less frequently since she started seeing Severus, mostly because she was content to do with him what Lucius would not do with her. It hadn't always been like this, though. When they were virgins, he was more than willing to have her pleasure him orally. It hadn't changed once they started having sex, either, nor had he started denying her – or insisting on the missionary position with little foreplay – once they were married.

No, she knew when things had changed.

After Draco was born.

Back when she was a hormonal mess.

Back when sex was the farthest thing from her mind.

But he didn't mind, because he was getting it elsewhere.

She wondered frequently during that period what it was that made him change the way he viewed her, what made him insist there were things he could no longer do with her (and other things that he "needed" to do with other women that he would "never attempt" with her). Being insecure, especially then, she wondered if it was due to her own lack of talent in that arena. Or perhaps it was actually because of Draco – perhaps Mother was right, perhaps "Men who watch their wives give birth don't see fit to get them pregnant again."

Perhaps Lucius simply couldn't stand the thought of sexually 'defiling' her now that she was the mother of his child.

"Come on, Narcissa, don't be cross," said Lucius, kissing and fondling her.

"I'm not cross." She tried not to be, anyway, but in truth, she was. And also, to be perfectly honest, she was bored. Sex with Severus was exciting, passionate, somewhat frantic, full of desire and the need to be connected and always intensified by the knowledge that even on those rare occasions when they had all night, they really had so little time.

Sex with Lucius had become routine, but what was worse was that Narcissa wasn't even certain she was still in love with him, or that she loved him at all, at least not in a romantic way. Of course, part of her would always love him for who he'd been and what they'd shared. She'd always love the sweet boy who patiently taught her she didn't need to fear being touched, the handsome man who desired her even when she was at her worst, the semi-devoted wizard who'd given her the greatest gift, their son.

But was she still in love with him?

Could she love him like she used to?

"The Amortentia smelled like strawberries," he said. He pulled her nightgown over her head and repositioned himself to kiss along her throat and clavicle.

"Excuse me?"

"January of sixth year, Slughorn had us brew Amortentia. It's a love potion. It takes on the scent of the things you love, different for each wizard or witch."

"I know what it is."

"When I did it, it smelled like strawberry shampoo. Your strawberry shampoo. You're the only witch I've ever known who makes her own strawberry shampoo. It smelled like you."

"We weren't even dating yet," she said. Though she will still confused about her feelings toward him, she couldn't help the way her body was slowly responding to the touch of his fingertips and the feeling of his breath hot against her skin…

"I know. It's why I asked you out. To Slughorn's Valentine's Party. Because I figured if the love potion smelled like you, there must be a reason. Do you suppose, if you brewed Amortentia today, to you it would smell like me?"

For the first time in many, many years, he sounded terribly insecure.

For the first time in many, many weeks she felt terribly guilty.

She couldn't answer.

"When I was in Azkaban, Narcissa," he went on between placing kisses on the soft skin of her shoulders, upper arms, and across her chest, "I worried about you constantly."

"About me?"

"I know what kinds of men my fellow Death Eaters are. I know what happens when a man falls out of favor with the Dark Lord, what some of His followers have done… have done to the wives… as punishment."

"Oh!" her eyes widened. This had never occurred to her and she was glad, otherwise she would have spent that year feeling even more terrified and anxious than she had.

"I didn't know what the Dark Lord Himself would do to punish our family. I never expected him to… to assign a task like that to Draco. I was certain… reasonably certain He would take it out on you…"

"Oh, Lucius…" her eyes filled with tears. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the strawberry scent he so adored, even after all these years.

"I worried… I thought… I envisioned… envisioned all sorts of awful things… but I had hope that Bellatrix would protect you from the Dark Lord, while Severus could protect you from other Death Eaters.

"Damn it," she whispered, as one tear managed to escape. He wiped it away.

"I was right to trust them," he added. "If not for the skills Bellatrix taught Draco and Severus' completion of the task, I'm not confident our son would still be alive. But you… I was afraid… I worried all the time that… that someone would violate you… the Dark Lord or a Death Eater... and that when I'd get out, when I'd return home, it would be to find you… broken…"

"I'm not broken," she whispered. "Bella and Severus kept Draco and me safe, just as you'd hoped they would."

"I know. And I know you're not happy about my… extracurriculars," said Lucius. He wiped Narcissa's tears again then kissed her once on each cheek. "And while I could promise to stop, I don't want to lie to you."

"I don't want you to lie to me," she whispered.

"I hope you realize that I do love you. Even after twenty-five years, I still love that you're my wife."

"Oh, Lucius." She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, feeling more uncertain than ever. "I love you, Lucius." She cupped his cheek and kissed him, a long, drawn-out kiss, forcing herself to clear her mind. "I'll never not love you…"

"Show me," he said, parting her legs with his knee, holding firmly to the backs of her thighs. "Let me show you…"

After they'd finished (in missionary position, with no further foreplay, ending with his satiation alone) he left her alone in the bed so he could hop back in the shower. Once she heard the water running, she took the enchanted notebook and her wand out of her bedside table, prepared to tell Severus she simply couldn't do this anymore, but to her (pleasant) surprise, she already had a message from him. Though she'd just minutes before been pledging her devotion to her husband, realizing her lover had recently written made her heart flutter even before she'd read a word, and all thoughts of breaking things off with him (again) went out of her head.

 _I thought of a better (equally dirty) pickup line/pun than the one you sent yesterday. "Are you the Chamber of Secrets? Because my Basilisk would like to Slytherin." What do you think? Much cleverer than your "Are you the Hogwarts Express? Because I'd like to see you reach 9¾," which was, quite frankly, just embarrassing. –SS_

She held back a giggle, afraid Lucius would hear her even with the shower running. Over the last several days, she and Severus had been trying to outdo each other by coming up with inappropriate pickup lines featuring Wizarding puns, a game of sorts that they'd started after he come across a confiscated note from one student to another that read, "Is your ass a Boggart? Because it's Riddikulus!" in response to "Are you a Dementor? Because you take my breath away." Though Alecto Carrow had given both students detention for passing notes in class, Severus couldn't help secretly finding their messages funny, thus he'd sent them on to Narcissa. She'd promptly said she thought she could do a better job of coming up with better/worse and three days later, they were still trading them.

 _Yours is alright, but I firmly believe you have underestimated the perfection that is my 9 ¾ quip. How about, "Is that your wand in your pocket, or are you simply happy to see me?" –NM_

 _No good. You already used that one on Monday. –SS_

 _Damn. In that case, what about this: "Did you just fall through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries? Because you're dead sexy." –NM_

 _That is, quite possibly, the absolutely worst and therefore best there's ever been or could ever be. Good work. Fifty points to your true House, Hufflepuff. –SS_

She stifled another giggle. Then, feeling as though she had to be honest with him, but also afraid to make more of the morning than necessary, she scribbled out a new message.

 _Today is my 25_ _th_ _anniversary. I assume you can imagine what that means. Perhaps you should seek out Septima Vector tonight to see if she's interested in helping you even our score – I'm now up three (four if you count the under-a-minute) and I feel guilty about it. More importantly, when shall I see you again? –NM_

She received a response almost immediately.

 _I'd ask Septima, but I believe she's at St. Mungos having her arthritic hip replaced. That happens to the elderly. You'll see how it is in a couple of years, when you're her age. –SS_

 _You're only five years behind me Mr. Thinks He's So Funny. –NM_

 _Five long years. And I_ _am_ _funny. You just don't understand young people humor. –SS_

 _Keep laughing, Professor. You look older than I do. –NM_

 _I look older because I'm wiser. And it's Headmaster, not Professor. –SS_

 _One: that doesn't make sense. Two: I reckon I could think of an exceptionally vulgar play on the word "Headmaster" if given enough time. Three, and most importantly: when shall I see you again? –NM_

 _It's just occurred to me that you're the Head Mistress of the Headmaster. How's that for a vulgar play on the word? –SS_

 _Does this mean you're winning again? –NM_

 _Indeed. –SS_

 _What have you won? –NM_

 _An evening with you, I hope. –SS_

 _I've asked you half a dozen times when we'll see each other again! –NM_

 _I'm working on it. Check back tonight. For now, I must go. Unlike you, Trophy Wife, I have a job. Happy Anniversary. –SS_

 _That's weird. It's weird for you to wish me a happy anniversary. –NM_

 _Sorry. In that case, have an awful anniversary. –SS_

 _That's not better. –NM_

 _Allow me to try again: Have an anniversary that is neither happy nor awful, that you neither enjoy nor have to suffer through, that both reminds you why you've been married for a quarter of a century and doesn't make you forget why you wanted to have an affair. Better now? –SS_

 _Much better, thank you. –NM_

 _And check back tonight. I'll figure out something. As you are no doubt aware, I want you, and the waiting is hard. –SS_

 _Very well. Out of curiosity, concerning the end of your last sentence, pun intended? –NM_

 _It wasn't, but in order to appear cleverer than I am, I shall pretend otherwise. –SS_

 _I want you, too. I'll check back later. –NM_

Severus set down his quill and sighed. While he enjoyed this flirtation with his friend's wife almost as much as he enjoyed the sex, there was absolutely no way he could continue to pretend that their relationship – whatever it may be – was only physical. He supposed he could continue to call it friendship or a non-emotional affair, but considering the perverse undertones in most of their interactions, and the fact that he now fantasized as much about cuddling her as shagging her, it was certainly unlike any friendship or no-strings-attached sex he'd ever had before. It had never even been like this with Septima Vector, with whom he'd always kept conversations on a surface level, usually about the goings-on at Hogwarts, and with whom he had never once spent the night after being together. As a matter of fact, Narcissa was the only woman with whom he'd spent the entire night, the only woman he'd fallen asleep holding and woken up beside.

And he liked it.

And that was not acceptable.

He couldn't say that he loved her, though he supposed (as he'd nearly told her in bed a couple of weeks prior) there were things he loved _about_ her. But when he compared it to his feelings about Lily, they were not at all the same. What he felt for Lily was pure and innocent and deep-seated and beautiful. He had no doubt in his mind that he loved Lily, that he'd loved her since childhood.

So why couldn't he stop thinking about Narcissa?

"It is possible, you know," said the voice of Albus Dumbledore. Severus turned around in his chair to face the portrait of the former Headmaster.

"Excuse me?"

"To love more than one person at the same time. It _is_ possible."

Severus snapped the notebook closed, wondering how Dumbledore always seemed to know what he was thinking, even now, even though he's only a memory within a portrait without the ability to use Legilimency.

"Love is infinite," added Dumbledore. "And the more of it there is in the world, the better."

"I don't love her," insisted Severus, annoyed that even in death the old man was able to meddle in his personal affairs, and even more infuriatingly, to get into his head.

"But you can."

"But I don't."

"But –"

"She means nothing to me." Severus opened the top left drawer of his desk, threw the notebook in, and slammed the drawer.

"Severus…"

"I don't love her. I'll never love her. I don't even want to love her." He stalked off toward his chambers.

"Severus, come back."

Severus opened the door to his quarters, hesitated only a moment, then entered, kicking it shut behind him.

"End of discussion."

* * *

 **A/N:**  
Harry Hobbit - Glad you're a registered user now! :)  
Half-as-Beautiful - Thanks! I don't write many one-shots anymore but maybe it could be! :)  
Thanks!  
- **AL**


	28. Valentine's Day, 1998

**Chapter Twenty-eight – Valentine's Day, 1998**

It was half-past noon when Narcissa finally dragged herself out of bed on February 14th. Valentine's Day.

She'd been drinking the night before – she'd been drinking all week, actually – and her head was pounding.

Fifteen minutes later, she was in the shower, eyes closed, letting the hot water run over her face and the shampoo go down her back, trying to will away her hangover, when she got the unsettling feeling she was not alone. Her eyes snapped open, a big mistake because homemade strawberry shampoo immediately got into them, stinging her pupils. She grabbed for a washcloth and wiped her face.

"Who's there?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice. "Lucius?"

"It's me!" called the voice of her sister, Bellatrix.

"Bella!" Narcissa exclaimed. She stuck her head out through the shower door, which, thankfully, was made of tinted frosted glass (no one could see in or out).

Bellatrix was standing in the bathroom in her nightgown, leaning against the closed door with one hand on her lower back and the other on her protruding belly.

"Hi, Cissy."

" _'_ _Hi, Cissy?'_ Bella, damn it, what are you doing? It's one thing to climb into my bed when I'm sleeping, but to invade my privacy when I'm in the loo? Have you no sense of bounderies at all?"

"Touch me," said Bellatrix. "Feel. Right here." She indicated a spot on her midsection.

"I'm in the bloody shower!"

"Here! Feel it!" Bellatrix moved closer. She reached into the shower, grabbed her sister's hand, and placed it on her belly. "Feel that? What _is_ that?"

"It's… oh, Bellatrix." Despite her hangover and her annoyance at the intrusion, Narcissa couldn't help chuckling. "The baby is kicking, Bella. Haven't you felt it before? You should have been feeling it for the last month at least."

"I've felt it on the inside!" she said, pressing Narcissa's hand down harder. "But this is different. This morning, before getting dressed, I could see its foot! I could _see_ it, Cissy! Through my skin! Right here! And now it's bloody tap dancing or some shit and I've never felt anything so bizarre. I tried to show the Dark Lord but all He said was, 'Let me know when it's born.' Then I tried to show Rodolphus because I had to show _someone_ but he couldn't give less of a fuck. Some husband, eh? Then I told Lucius because I saw him in the dining room and he said, 'Yes, it's moving, they do that,' but he said I couldn't tell you because you were sleeping off a bottle of wine. I came to your room anyway and knocked and knocked but you didn't answer so I left and then I came back and knocked again and finally I had bugged him so much he lifted your new wards and let me in!"

"It's… can you let me finish rinsing my hair, then I'll get dressed and we can talk?"

"Certainly." Bellatrix sat on top of the closed toiled seat. "I'll wait here."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. She put her head back under the hot water, rubbed her bloodshot, still-stinging eyes, and tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that came from knowing someone else was in the room. When she shut off the faucet, she called to her sister.

"I need to get out, which means _you_ need to get out. Wait for me in the bedroom."

"You're overly modest, Narcissa," replied Bellatrix, but she used the sink as leverage and stood up. "It's not as if you've got anything I've never seen before."

"I don't like to think about the parts of me you've seen before," snapped Narcissa.

Bellatrix clapped a hand over her mouth, uncharacteristically horrified by her own words.

"I didn't mean… I didn't mean… oh, Cissy, I meant because we're both women, and…"

"It's okay, Bella," Narcissa assured her. "It's just that I like my privacy when I'm dressing, alright?"

"Yes, alright. I'll go. I'm sorry."

It was strange, hearing Bellatrix apologize to her, having Bellatrix be the one to duck her head and retreat. Typically that was Narcissa's position, as Bella kept herself purposely elevated above everyone else and always had.

It was unusual for Bellatrix to feel remorse over any of her past actions. She didn't feel bad about robbing Neville Longbottom of his parents or Molly Prewett Weasley of her brothers. She didn't feel guilty about defiling Mudblood women for the Dark Lord's viewing pleasure. She didn't regret teasing Severus Snape about dead Lily or goading Harry Potter about his murdered parents. But she'd never get past the near-crippling self-loathing that consumed her every time she was reminded of what she'd done to her baby sister while under the Imperius Curse thirty-five years ago.

Narcissa, for her part, was unbothered in the moment.

She wrapped her hair in a towel, threw her nightgown back on (since her clothes were in the bedroom) and then grabbed for her favorite soft white bathrobe, the one embroidered with her initials, _NEM_ , a gift from Lucius on one of their early anniversaries (he got himself a robe that matched, but with _LAM_ on the breast).

She entered the bedroom.

"Okay, what do you…" Her voice trailed off. Bellatrix was curled up on Narcissa's side of the bed, fast asleep. Against her chest she cuddled Babbity Rabbity, Cissy's graying stuffed bunny from babyhood, which she usually kept on the bottom shelf of her sidetable drawer.

"For the love of Merlin," muttered Narcissa. She summoned a quilt from the hopechest and tossed it over her sister.

"Narcissa, dear…" The door was flung open. Lucius stood there, Narcissa's wand in one hand, a letter in the other. "We got an Owl from… what's your sister doing?"

"Sleeping, apparently. An Owl from who? Draco?"

"From _whom_ ," Lucius corrected. Narcissa's wand hand twitched. If she had been holding it instead of him, he may have found himself on the receiving end of a stinging hex.

"Whom is that letter from?" she asked, knowing it would drive him crazy to hear her start her sentence with an object and end on a preposition. She cocked her head as if challenging him to correct her again. He scowled, but refrained from commenting.

"Draco, yes. He says Happy Valentine's Day and he's sorry he forgot to send a message on our anniversary."

"My sweet boy!" She reached for the letter but Lucius held it away from her.

"It was addressed to me. He's asked me for advice that in no way concerns you. But he said I could share his well wishes and also let you know he has decided he will be returning to Malfoy Manor for Easter break this year."

"I'm happy about that… but what advice is he seeking from you? What can't I be privy to? I'm his mother!"

"He's not a child. He has a grown man's problem and needs a grown man's advice."

"Oh, oh dear, no…" Her knees went weak. She sat on the end of their bed, careful not to disturb Bellatrix. "He's gotten a girl pregnant, hasn't he? Which one? That new Astoria Greengrass or that awful Pansy Parkinson? I bet it's Pansy, isn't it? She seems like the type who'd get pregnant on purpose, just to trap a decent boy like our son."

"In that case, you should welcome her as a daughter-in-law," said Lucius icily. "You'll have something in common."

Pink spots dotted her cheeks.

"What… what do you mean, Lucius?"

"Please, Narcissa. I'm not an idiot. I may have believed at the time that you made a mistake with the birth control potion and got pregnant by mistake, but I'm twenty-five years wiser now. I realized long ago that you did it on purpose to keep me from leaving you for Eleanor Nott."

"You… you think… you believe that I…?"

"Stop stammering. Don't insult us both by denying it. You didn't want me to throw you over so you ensured I'd have to marry you by conceiving my child. It's fine. I'm not angry anymore. As I told you on our wedding night, I would have married you anyway, eventually. Though the Notts were also members of the Sacred 28, my mother found them uncouth and unattractive. She never would've wanted me to procreate with Eleanor – though she was pretty, there was too much danger our children would look more like her relatives, with buck teeth and disjointed noses. Despite the way she acted, my mother rather thought you and I made for a good match. You're pureblood, you presented yourself with dignity and class, you were obedient and polite, and perhaps most importantly, you were attractive. That's all my parents were looking for. Though they would have preferred it if you were a virgin."

Though this revelation about his mother, who had always treated Narcissa rather badly, was interesting, Narcissa latched onto a different part of his statement.

"What do you mean, you're not angry _anymore_? When were you angry?"

"Let's not fight, dear." He moved toward the bed and kissed her on the temple. "Get dressed and come downstairs. Eat some lunch. Sober up. And wake your sister. She can't sleep in our bed all day."

"I _am_ sober," she snapped, but he was already headed out the door.

She did get dressed, but she did not wake her sister. Instead, she went to her bedside table, checked for any new messages from Severus (there weren't any, there hadn't been any in over a week, not since the morning of her anniversary), then reached far into the back and pulled out a small bottle of red wine that she'd hidden there the other day when he threatened to take away her supply. She opened it and, forgoing a glass, downed the entire thing, the equivalent of one good-sized serving. She then returned it to its place in the back and whispered the incantation that would make it refill itself from the stores in the cellar.

Then she sat beside her sister and placed a hand on her belly, feeling. The baby was shifting in its mother's womb again, stretching and kicking. Narcissa closed her eyes, trying to imagine Bellatrix as a mother. It was difficult.

For the first time in a long time, Narcissa also found herself wondering whether it had been a mistake to insist upon only having one child. She had fond memories of this part of the pregnancy, after the morning sickness had completely subsided, but before she was so massive she couldn't get comfortable no matter what she tried. She liked it when she looked as though she was smuggling a quaffle under her dress rather than resembling a hippo in human's clothes. This was the part of her pregnancy in which she was consumed by excitement over baby Malfoy growing and moving inside her, before the terror over becoming a mother fully set in.

"I don't want to do it alone," murmured Bellatrix, half-asleep, as she rolled from her side to her back. "I'm afraid, Cissy."

"I know how you feel," said Narcissa softly. "But you're not alone, Bella. I'm here."

"I'm glad that you're here," said Bellatrix.

An hour later, Bellatrix was in her own bed and Narcissa was in the kitchen, which had, over the last year, gone from strictly a servent's space to the most popular room in the Manor. She was eating a late lunch she'd made herself – a BLT, this time with perfect (not blackend) bacon – when Juliet Rosier entered.

"Good afternoon, Cousin."

"What the hell are you doing here?" asked Narcissa rudely. "Who sent for you?"

"The Dark Lord Himself," she replied with pride. "But I thought I'd arrive early to look in on you and your husband. You know, to be polite."

"You're not welcome," said Narcissa, pulling apart the crust of her bread, suddenly having lost her appetite.

"Oh, I think I am."

Narcissa looked her young cousin up and down. The girl was good-looking, true, and young, but there were a lot of good-looking young women her husband could choose from, so what did Lucius see in _her_ specifically? What could she provide him that his own wife could not?

"I've recently moved out of my old place near Hogsmeade, the one I shared with friends, and into my own flat. It's not far from here. Lucius found it for me. Wasn't that nice of him?"

"Is he paying for it too?" asked Narcissa, returning her attention to her sandwich.

"As a matter of fact, yes, he is."

This hit Narcissa like a stunning spell. Though she'd asked, she'd never in a million years suspected the answer would be yes. He had only ever done that once before – arranged a nearby living arrangement for a mistress – and that was for none other than Endora Selwyn.

That was the place in which she'd hung herself, right in the parlor of the flat he was paying for.

Which a Daily Prophet gossip columnist saw fit to report, much to Narcissa's increased humiliation.

"Has he told you much about Endora?" asked Narcissa nonchalantly, thinking _Clear Your Mind_ , even though she had no reason to believe the girl was skilled in the rarely mastered art of Legilimency.

"Such an unfortunate situation," Juliet said, feigning pity. "He told me it was a bad time in his life – what with his son being _so young_ and you being _such a mess_ – he couldn't leave to be with her, no matter what he truly wanted, because he's a good and decent person, bless him. Thankfully, circumstances are different now."

Narcissa paled. "Excuse me?"

Juliet shrugged. "His son isn't a baby, he's a grown man."

"Our son," Narcissa corrected her. "My son. The son my husband and I share."

"Right, that one," said Juliet dismissively. "Draco doesn't need Mummy and Daddy anymore. And Daddy doesn't need Mummy, either."

Slowly, calmly, Narcissa stood. Her chair scraped against the floor as she pushed it back. She stepped to Juliet Rosier, squaring off, as dignifiedand unerturbed as she could manage to seem.

"You are overestimating your place here," said Narcissa. "You mean as little to my husband as you ultimately do to the Dark Lord. What he does with you, he does because he lacks respect for you."

"On the contrary," said Juliet just as cooly. "What he's been lacking is satisfaction, which is what initially made me an ideal mistress, but what we have together has since grown into something more."

"As I said," Narcissa steeled herself, resisting the urge to twirl her hair, "You overestimate your place. Stick to what you're good at – whoring yourself out – and you may end up with the Dark Mark you seek. To attempt to reach any goal beyond that is futile. Know your place."

Juliet glared at her for several seconds. Just when Narcissa was ready to look away, the younger woman smiled.

"How is it you've been married twenty-five years and have never once managed to get him off using your mouth?" she asked innocently, as if with concern. "He told me you tried recently, without success. That's… cute. If you'd like me to stick with what I'm good at, I'd be happy to. But in the interim, you may wish to think about what _you're_ good at, because you may soon find yourself without a _place_. Understand?"

"If my sister heard you speaking to me this way…"

"Hiding behind your sister again?" Juliet cackled. "What's she going to do? Torture me into insanity like a Longbottom?"

"She might."

Juliet cackled again, higher-pitched this time. To Narcissa it felt like fingernails on a blackboard. "Will that be before or after she goes into labor? Have you figured out yet who fathered the bastard baby she carries? I'm not afraid of your sister, Narcissa. Not anymore."

Pink spots dotted Narcissa's pale cheeks. Juliet's Cheshire cat grin widened.

"Face the facts, Cousin. You're old. You're dull. You're sexually repressed. You're bad in bed. You've lost your looks and your purpose. You're an alcoholic…"

"I am not!" argued Narcissa.

"Yes you are, I can smell the liquor on your breath from here. I'm doing you a favor by letting you know." Juliet took Narcissa's hand, gripping tightly when the latter tried to pull away. "It's only a matter of time before he grows as tired of keeping up appearances as he's already grown with you. In short, the more I am able to provide him what you can't, the less need for you he'll have, and soon…?" She released Narcissa's hand and winked. "Well. Happy Valentine's Day."

With that, she swept from the kitchen, leaving Narcissa alone.

And broken.

Narcissa returned to her bedroom intending to drink more of the wine hidden in the back of the drawer, but when she opened it, she found the bottle was gone. Clearly Lucius had discovered her secret stash, or he'd gotten a house elf to reveal it to him. Her wand wasn't there either. He had recently begun taking it more and more frequently, always without permission. She checked the Severus notebook anyway. She would know there was a new message without her wand; she just wouldn't be able to read it.

There weren't any new messages.

She threw the book roughly back into the drawer and slammed it shut, then flung herself face-down on the bed and sobbed.

After a good hour of intense tears, she finally began to calm and tried to collect her thoughts. What was it that had her so upset? What exactly? She'd known for some time that her husband was having an affair with Juliet and it wasn't his first transgression, so it couldn't be that alone.

Was it that she'd been expecting to see Severus on February fourteenth, only to have been unceremoniously ghosted by him over the last ten days?

Was it that her husband's mistress really did seem to be a mistress, and not just another easy young woman seeking status or foolishly hoping to be more than a mattress for a prominent man?

Was it that Juliet had called her sexually repressed, the very words Severus had once used to describe her when she wouldn't let him undress her unless it was dark?

Was it the fear that Juliet was right, that the only reason he hadn't left her all those years ago, the only reason he hadn't divorced her for Endora Selwyn, was that he thought she couldn't raise Draco on her own and was therefore trapped by his obligation to be a good father?

She was wiping her eyes on her sleeve and contemplating more What Ifs when _he_ entered. Lucius.

"Did you bid goodday to the little slag or are you just stopping in here to grab a change of clothes?"

"Excuse me?" Lucius closed the door, turning to face his wife. Her wand was in his hand. She wanted it back.

"Give me my wand, Lucius, and then get out."

He chuckled but looked more shocked than amused. "What?"

"You told her I'm an alcoholic. You told her I was a bad mother. You told her I'm no good in bed. What else did you tell her, Lucius? Did you tell her you only married me because I got pregnant? Did you tell her I lost my virginity to you at fourteen? Did you tell her I was abused as a child? How much of my personal business did you share with her?"

"Narcissa, let's not fight."

"Give me my wand."

"I need it."

"Fuck what you need. Give me my wand."

Something in her had snapped. She wasn't hurt anymore. She wasn't depressed. She wasn't even in the mood for a drink. She was angry.

"You are not permitted to speak to me that way, Narcissa," said Lucius icily.

She rose from the bed, stood straight in front of him, and looked him in the eye.

"You are my husband, not my father. You have no right to tell me how I am and am not permitted to speak."

"You vowed to honor and obey me, remember?"

She regarded him up and down, taking him in. Something had changed.

He had the same long white-blond hair he'd had since they were back in school. Same erect posture. Same stubborn jaw. Same expensive robes. Same superior attitude.

But the twinkle there had been in his blue eyes, the one where she'd always seen the real him, the patient, protective man who was loyal to her, who laughed with her and loved her, it was gone. He looked upon her now as if she were no more significant than a beetle, and twice as annoying.

"No," she said, after a long pause. "I don't remember. Give me my wand."

"No."

"Stop seeing her."

"No."

"Then I want a divorce."

It was his turn to glance her over, but he did so quizzically, as if seeing her for the first time. And judging. She resisted the urge to shudder under his gaze. Finally he resumed eye contact. He looked annoyed.

"Is it time for your monthly, Narcissa, or have you just been drinking again?"

SLAP.

She slapped him.

Harder than she would've thought she could, she slapped him.

So hard it stung the palm of her hand.

And left a red welt across his cheek.

"You condescending bastard. I've given you almost thirty years of my life. I've been everything you've asked me to be, I've done everything I was expected to do, and for what? So you can leave me for my cousin, a girl who's barely older than our son? A girl who's about the same age as our own firstborn would have been, had I not… not…" She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay angry, not to let hurt overcome, not to cry. _Clear your mind_. "You're paying for a flat for her to live in? You let her come into our home?"

"Malfoy Manor is _my_ home," he corrected her cruelly. "You merely live here."

"Not for much longer." She stormed to her dresser and began removing random articles of clothing, tossing them onto the bed, then stalked off to the closet to do the same.

"I need a suitcase. Or a carpet bag."

"You're not going anywhere," he said, watching her as if she were a mildly entertaining musical act. "Even if you wanted to. I have your wand, and besides, you can't apparate off the grounds."

"I'll figure out a way. I'm done, Lucius."

"You're not done. What you are is out of control. You're being irrational. I'm not going to leave you for her and you're not going to leave me either."

"Oh, you're not? She seems to think otherwise."

"She was only teasing you, I'm sure."

"Teasing me? Teasing me!" Narcissa snatched a dress from the wardrobe, balled it up, and threw it in Lucius' direction. It landed short.

"As I've told you before, darling, what I have with… others… is not emotional. It's physical, that's all. I have certain needs you can't fulfil."

"Because you respect me."

"Because I respect you."

"It doesn't feel like bloody respect. What do you _do_ with her, Lucius? Is it worth it? Is it worth your money to be with her? Is it worth your time? Is it worth losing your wife? Is it worth your fucking dignity? And why? For what? Just so you can do things with her you think you can't do with me? What _do_ you do with that little girl? She's half your damn age, Lucius Malfoy. She's making you look like a fool."

"You want to know what I do with her?" Lucius rushed aggressively toward his wife, grabbed her by the arm, and forced her toward the dresser. He turned her so her back was flush against his chest, and roughly shoved her down so her cheek was against the bureau's smooth wooden surface. One of his hands twisted her arm painfully behind her back while the other went to her neck. He applied pressure to the front of her throat, let go of the pinned hand, which remained trapped behind her, and jerked her skirt up to her waist. She could feel him pressing into her from behind as the grip on her throat grew tighter. "You want to know, Narcissa?"

Narcissa whimpered. She was not angry anymore. As quickly as the anger had overtaken her, it dissipated. Now she was scared.

Keeping one hand on her throat, he used the other to grab her hair, forcing her head back. She began to hyperventilate. He spoke directly into her ear.

"You want to know what I do with her that I can't do with you, my dear?"

Again, he tightened his grip on her throat.

She refused to answer.

Not that she could if she wanted to.

He grinded his pelvis against her arse and yanked on her hair a second time.

"You want me to show you?"

She tried to shake her head no but his grasp on her was too tight.

"Do you? Answer me. You'll answer me when I speak to you. Do you want me to show you what I do with her that I can't do with you?" He thrust against her again, pushing her face back down so her cheek was flush against the surface of the bureau. The hand that had been on her throat grabbed her roughly between the legs. He thrust against her. "Do you?"

"N-no," Narcissa choked out. She was trembling. This had been a mistake, picking a fight with him. She was never going to win. What had she even been hoping to accomplish?

"That's right, no." The hand entangled in her hair returned to the arm twisted behind her back. Releasing her with the other hand, he flung her by the arm toward the bed. She fell onto it, then scrambled into a position she knew all-too-well as a child, curled up, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Defensive.

He threw her wand on the bed beside her.

"You know what she lets me do, Narcissa?"

She shook her head, holding back tears. He sneered, clearly feeling no sympathy.

"She lets me look at her."

That was the straw upon the camel's back for Narcissa. A sob escaped. She buried her face against her knees and shook.

"I'm going out," he said, opening the bedroom door. "Don't expect me back until tomorrow."

Slam.

After he was gone, Narcissa didn't know what to do. So she cried. Of course she cried. And then she took a second shower so she could cry in the shower. Then she returned to her bed and cried some more, until her cheeks were swollen and rashy and her eyes could no longer create tears. Then she took her wand and went in search of the wine.

None in her bedroom, as she knew.

Plus the liquor cabinet in the parlor had been cleaned out.

And there was nothing in the kitchen.

But surely in the basement…

Yes.

She stole several bottles of merlot from a collection Lucius was saving for "someday," deciding someday might as well be today. She figured she could hide them in the attic. No one, aside from her, ever went up there.

Which gave her another idea.

Ignoring the sounds of that odd Luna Lovegood singing to herself in the makeshift dungeon at the other end of the basement, Narcissa gathered potions ingredients. She then returned to her bedroom for the enchanted notebook, grabbed a heavy plush blanket, and made her way up to the attic. On the way, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were red-rimmed. Her cheeks were puffy. Her hair was a mess. And there was bruising already forming around her neck where her husband's hand had grasped her. She hurried away, hoping not to meet anyone in the halls.

She locked herself in the attic. She lit a fire under her cauldron. She began to brew.

She began to drink.

About two-thirds of the way through the first bottle of wine, she opened the notebook and wrote a final message to Severus.

 _I don't know what I did. I don't know why you've cut me off. I don't know what I wrote to make you hate me. But I want you to know that I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry I upset you. I'm sorry I ever asked you to enter into that agreement with me. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my emotions out of it._

 _I'm sorry I fucked with the status quo._

 _I'm sorry that I believed you when you said if he hurt me again I could come to you at Hogwarts. I'm sorry that I have literally nowhere safe to go. I'm sorry that I'm trapped here._

 _Most of all, I'm sorry to be burdening you with this message._

 _Not that it matters. Nothing does._

 _And I'm sorry for that, too._

She closed the notebook, set down her wand, went back to her potion, and quickly consumed the rest of the first bottle of wine.

He received her message around ten and was consumed by a sense of dread, hoping if she were planning to do something stupid he would reach her before she had the opportunity. He hurried to Hogsmeade, then apparated to the grounds of Malfoy Manor straight away, but despite a search of the home, could not find her. After checking her bedroom, the kitchen, the parlor, the dining room, the library, the nursery, and even the dungeon (careful not to wake the prisoners), he finally found a house elf and asked for the entrance to the attic. Then he had to break the ward keeping the door locked, when a simple Alohamora wouldn't suffice. A fruity scent invaded his sinuses as he entered. The attic was vast and long. Using Lumos to light his way through boxes and past abandoned antique furniture, he finally caught a glimpse of her against the far wall, below a small porthole-style window. She was slumped over perhaps three feet from the cauldron, wrapped in a thick plush blanket. Asleep? Passed out? Or…?

He did not want to consider the possibility.

"Narcissa?" he called, almost afraid to move closer. "Narcissa!"

To his great relief, she opened her eyes.

"What?"

"What are you doing?" he took a step closer, resisting the urge to run to her.

"Brew… brewing a po… potion. What you think? Does it smell nice?"

He frowned. "Why? What is it?"

She smiled wistfully.

"It's Amortentia," she said, but on account of her slurred speech it sounded like, "Ish Amtortenshah."

"Are you trying to make someone fall in love with you against his will?" asked Severus, taking another step closer. He moved his wand around to get a better idea of their surroundings and spotted the wine bottles discarded on the floor. She looked awful. He wondered when she'd last eaten. Or comfortably slept.

"No," she said. "Is for me. I wanted to know what it smells like."

His gut wrenched. What _did_ it smell like to her? For the matter, what did it smell like to _him_? Did it smell like Lily? Could he remember what Lily smelled like?

He shook his head. He knew what it smelled like. He recognized that scent the moment he'd entered the attice.

Fuck.

"Narcissa?" He took yet another step closer. "What does it smell like to you?"

She closed her eyes, slumping partly onto her side, and reached for one of the bottles, in which a few sips remained. "Smells like red wine."

"I don't think _that's_ the Amortentia." He made his way over past the cauldron and crouched down, removing the bottle from her lips. He began checking her over for signs of injury, still worried she'd tried to hurt herself. Aside from some suspicious bruising around her neck and her bloodshot eyes, which she struggled to keep open, she looked alright.

"What happened to your throat?"

"Lucius," she answered. "Like the Dark Lord did to Bella."

"Did he…" Severus' wrenched gut twisted up even more. "Did he rape you?"

"No," she said. She closed her eyes again. "He can't. We're married. Besides…" Though she'd thought she had no more tears to cry, here they were. "Besides… he doesn't want me."

"So he… choked you?"

"It's my f-fault," she said, her words still slurred but not so much that he couldn't understand her. "I m-made him angry."

"No," said Severus. He took her face gently in his hands and asked twice for her to look at him. "It is _not_ your fault. It does not matter if you made him angry."

"I s-slapped him," said Narcissa. She wrapped the blanket around her body and let her eyes close again, dangerously close to passing out. "I s-s-started it."

"No!" said Severus, more insistently. "As I have told you before, it does not matter how angry you made him. That does not give him the right to hit you."

"Severus?" (Thanks to her intoxication, she pronounced his name, "Sevvvrusss.")

"Yes?"

"Why you stopped wanting me? What I do?"

"You didn't do anything, Narcissa." He wrapped his arms around her, which was not easy considering the bulkiness of her blanket, and in response she shifted until she was curled up in his lap, her head resting on his shoulder, like a small child in the arms of a parent. Safe.

"Cl-clearly I did s-something to m-make you h-hate me!"

He held her more tightly, slightly rocking her. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"Then… why?"

She readjusted her body so that she was straddling him, her palms resting gently upon his cheeks, making eye contact. The blanket fall from her shoulders.

"You said… you wrote… and th-then I wrote b-back… and… and… and n-nothing!" She was on the verge of tears, though part of her wondered how that was even possible. How could one woman possibly cry so much? Her head pounded from having done it already so many times in the day. "Why?"

"I'm sorry."

"Wh-ever I did, I'll m-m-make it up to you." She pressed her lips to his. He tried to pull away but was trapped between her body and the wall, and despite himself, he felt his body responding. His lips parted. He could taste the salt from her tears and the bitterness of the wine. He slid his tongue into and out of her mouth as his hands found her waist, then traveled up her back and down again to her arse. She rocked against him in a simulation of what she truly desired, her breasts flush against his chest, desperate for the comfort that would come from being wanted in that way. And he _did_ want her in that way. But when her fingers moved from his face to begin nimbly unbuttoning his robe, he took her hands in his and brought them down.

"No, Narcissa. Stop."

"What?" she asked, kissing his face, his neck, and trying again to unbutton his robe.

He held her wrists firmly, halting her. "Stop. Stop it."

"Why? You s-still don't… you s-still… what'sss wrong with me?"

"You're pissed," said Severus, bringing her hands down to her lap, releasing her wrists but clasping her hands with his, rubbing them gently with his thumbs. "You're completely wasted, that's what's wrong. How much have you had to drink?"

"I'm not drunk, I'm just _drunk_!"

"Precisely."

"Thasss not what I meant!"

"When did you last eat, Narcissa?"

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder as he pulled the blanket back up over them. His legs were going numb but he ignored the sensation, figuring her need to be held was, at the moment, more pressing than his need to feel bloodflow from the waist down.

"Lunch. Juliet was there. She… she said…"

And… Narcissa was crying again.

"She said L-L-Lucius told her I was a b-bad mother. She s-said he told h-her I'm n-no good in bed. She said he t-told her I'm an… an… an alcoholic."

"Oh, Narcissa…" Under the blanket, Severus rubbed her back, trying to think of something comforting to say, and feeling rather ill at ease, considering assuaging the feelings of women's inadequacy was not exactly something in which he had much experience. "You are a wonderful mother and you're excellent in bed."

"Thank you," she hiccupped. Her tears dripped onto his shoulder. She pulled back to look at him. "You didn't s-say I'm not an allllcoholic."

"Yes, well…" He guided her back down to rest her cheek against his shoulder, facing him. He could feel her breath on the side of his neck. "One thing at a time, eh?"

"Lucius w-won't be b-back until t-t-tomorrow. He's r-rented a flat for that bitch. You shhhhould take me to bed."

"Yes," Severus agreed. "I should take you to bed."

"Good." She pressed her lips against his neck, her fingers going to the buttons on his robe, but as he'd done already, he halted her.

"To bed, because you need to sleep this off. And tomorrow we will talk. I'll be interested in seeing what you remember from tonight."

"Thasss stupid," she said, but she closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep, as if Severus had switched her off with a flick of his wand. He rolled his eyes, moved her deadweight off of his lap, and struggled to regain feeling in his lower extremities. When the pins and needles had subsided, he extinguished the flame beneath the cauldron, Vanished its contents, and levitated her and the blanket so he could more easily take her in his arms. He carried her to the spiral staircase that led up to the attic and floated her down. Once at the bottom, he took her in his arms again and carried her to her bedroom, hoping she was correct when she said Lucius would not be back until the next day. Thankfully, he found her bedroom empty. He deposited her gently on the bed, placed her wand and the notebook in the bedside table drawer, started a fire in the fireplace, and went to her dresser, seeking one of those matronly white cotton nightgowns she seemed to find comfortable. As he changed her, two thoughts popped simaultaneously into his mind. The first being that this was the closest he had ever come to see her naked with the lights on (he did not remove her knickers, but did divest her of everything else, and couldn't help taking a moment to commit the image to memory) and the second being that he had done the same for her sister less than two months prior, after her attack from the Dark Lord. Damn. The Black women were a mess. He wondered how Andromeda was faring. Probably not well, with her husband still on the run.

Once Narcissa was clothed, he moved her to be under the covers and then was finally able to properly examine her neck. She was not injured to the extent her sister had been, not even close, though he wished he'd brought with him the healing salve he'd shared with Bellatrix. Instead he used his wand and a familiar incantation in an attempt to ease her discomfort, all the while mentally cursing Malfoy for having gotten violent with his wife for a second time.

"Azzzkaban," she whispered as Severus gently ran his thumb over the center of her throat. "He's diff'rent since then."

"Dementors have a way of changing a person," said Severus. Ever-so-softly, he pressed his lips to the most bruised part of her throat, which looked to be a thumbprint. Despite his words, he wanted to kill Malfoy, his old friend, because Azkaban was no excuse for this.

"Ev'rything's difffff'rent. I'm afraid."

"As am I," he said softly, revealing a vulnerability he never let anyone see. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, which she reciprocated. "But I'll do whatever I can to protect you."

"Thank you."

She was quiet awhile and he thought she might have fallen asleep. He summoned over a chair and sat beside her, the way he had for Bella that awful night.

"Sevvvruss?"

"Yes?"

She reached out from under the blankets to take his hand, then pressed the back of it to her lips. "I might kill him and Juliet too. Do you think they're dumb enough to drink poisoned soup?"

"You're drunk," he replied. "You're not capable of killing anyone. That's the wine talking."

"Okay." She closed her eyes but did not release his hand. "Sevvruss?"

"Yes?"

"What did it smell like to you? The Amortentia?"

"Sleep, Narcissa," he said. "We can talk tomorrow."

"Okay…" Her breathing became deep and even. Again he thought she had fallen asleep when she surprised him by speaking.

"Sevvruss? I think I'm falling for you."

She let his hand drop.

She was out.

For longer than he realized, he sat beside her, watching her sleep, lost in thought. When the grandfather clock struck three, shaking him of his reverie, he leaned onto the bed and kissed her temple.

"Strawberries," he whispered in her ear, knowing full well even if she was awake enough to hear him she wouldn't remember in the morning. "That's what it smelled like."

He left before sunrise.

* * *

 **A/N:** I am so so so super sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I don't want to get political on here, but I'm an American and this week we had our presidential election. The outcome was… painful. For several days my friends, family, and I here in NYC were consumed by feelings of shock, sadness, fear, and defeat. I even received rape and death threats from supporters of the opposition who seemed to think I deserve to suffer because I voted for a different candidate than they did.

I'm not telling readers this in an attempt to gain sympathy, spark debate, or cause divides, just hoping it'll help fans of Wanting Narcissa to understand why I temporarily lost my muse and therefore abandoned ffnet for over a week. Yesterday, when I was able to start writing again, I made major alterations to this chapter (it was originally a fluff chapter!) which affected the next few, thus I'm changing them now, plus I wrote a somewhat vicious 'first time' (Bella/Voldemort) smut fic in accordance with my mood. But I'm back on track now, I apologize for the unplanned hiatus, I thank you for your patience, and I adore you for all the follows, faves, reviews, and PMs. - **AL**

 _"_ _Happiness can be found in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light."_

 _-Albus Dumbledore_


	29. Mid-February, 1998

**Chapter Twenty-nine – Mid-February, 1998**

Narcissa had only fractured memories from February 14th. She remembered her fight with Lucius, of course, and everything Juliet had said, and Bella bothering her in the shower, and she remembered making a BLT, and going in search of liquor, and taking potions ingredients up to the attic, and she remembered writing to Severus…

And then he was there.

Wasn't he?

Or had she dreampt him?

She knew she'd brewed Amortentia.

She knew she'd gotten pissed again.

She knew she'd passed out beside her cauldron.

So how did she get back into her bed? When had she put on her nightgown?

Had Lucius come home and left again?

Or…

Maybe she hadn't dreampt him.

But it didn't make sense. He hadn't communicated with her in ten whole days, not since he told her to check back at night once he'd figured out Valentine's plans for her.

She dragged herself out of bed, her head positively pounding, feeling as though her limbs weighed about the same as baby elephants. She forced herself into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and waited for the water to get sufficiently hot. She charmed the door locked, undressed, and, in a matter of minutes, was standing under the steady stream.

Until she was sitting under the steady stream.

Because standing was hard.

She closed her eyes and let her hair fall forward across her face in limp ringlets. She was the only one of her sisters who had pin-straight hair and the only one whose hair went curlier when wet. When the girls were younger they used to spend half their summers swimming and when they'd get out of the water Andromeda's hair would hang long and lifeless, while impatient Bella would towel-dry hers and let it frizz out, but Narcissa's would have lovely little rings like curled ribbon framing her face. The look didn't last long, but she liked it.

She liked swimming with her sisters.

She liked having two sisters.

She wondered what Andromeda was up to. Bellatrix and Nymphadora were about the same number of months along, Narcissa figured, which meant Anromeda would soon be a grandmother.

Bella was about to become a mother.

Andromeda was about to become a grandmother.

And Narcissa was an alcoholic with a cheating husband and an absent lover.

Well, damn.

During Voldemort's first reign, Narcissa hadn't given much thought to what His policies meant to the Wizarding World. She knew He believed in blood purity, as they all did, and He wanted to "take back" their magic from the undeserving, the Muggleborn and Mudbloods and Blood Traitors, those who couldn't be trusted with their wands, those who didn't come by it honestly, those who weren't from old, established Wizarding families with proper breeding, those who were sick of having to hide themselves from a Muggle world.

But now?

What were they fighting for?

With Dumbledore gone, their most dangerous enemy, their Undesirable Number One, was nothing but a moderately talented teenage boy with a hero complex and a smart Mudblood girlfriend. Oh, and the Weasley.

They were using their control of the Ministry to weed out those with Muggle blood. They were using their control of the school to indoctrinate kids into a culture of fear and hate.

For what?

Being pure blood, a member of the Sacred 28, had never been as important to Narcissa as it was to Bellatrix, because while it made the latter feel special and superior, for the former, it just meant the chance at a better husband, which had always been her mother's only goal for her.

She'd gotten her 'better' husband.

The Dark Lord was winning the war.

And what did it mean for Narcissa?

She was going to lose her husband to a younger woman.

She'd nearly lost her son for the Dark Lord's wrath.

She wasn't happier than she'd been a decade before, after His fall, when her life was wrapped up in being picture perfect. They used to throw a lot of parties, then. Dinner parties, mostly. They'd invited a veritable Who's Who of prominent witches and wizards, partially to engage socially with their peers, but in equal part to show off. Everyone would wear their finest, but none could compare to Narcissa and Lucius and even little Draco, in his bow ties with his blond hair slicked back handsomely, primarily because few, if any, had anywhere near as much money as the Malfoys.

 _That_ made her feel special.

And she supposed it would't have been possible if they weren't pure blood.

But lately – until ten days ago – she'd begun experiencing a different type of happiness, in the arms of a Mudblood, no less! Though she was hurt by his sudden disappearing act, she couldn't deny that she felt for him so much more than she should. There was something lovely about what they had together, about not having to keep up appearances, about just being herself, making stupid puns and casually flirting and feeling desired and living with the comforting knowledge that she could confide even her worst memories to another person free from judgment. What's more, she liked that he felt he could confide in her, too. Not that he was anywhere near as open as she'd been. He had many secrets, so much internalized pain, and she didn't know whether he'd ever be able to discuss with her what had made him close himself off to the world emotionally, but she was certain it was related to his friendship with, and love of, Lily Potter.

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Severus was in the shower, too. Also thinking about Lily Potter. Trying to remember her. Trying to remember what she smelled like.

Strawberries weren't the only thing he smelled when he entered the attic. There was the typical attic smell, for one, but obviously that didn't come from the Amortentia. There was the smell of antique hardcover books, too, which he knew he also smelled upon brewing it in Slughorn's class Sixth year. Strawberries, old books… and what else? There had been another scent in the air, he was certain, and perhaps _that_ represented his beloved Lily, but he'd been so worried in the moment… and the smell of strawberries had been so overwhelming… He couldn't remember. He supposed he could brew it himself, except… he didn't want to. As much as he wanted to remember, a part of him didn't want to know.

It was bad enough knowing about the strawberries.

This was not what he'd signed up for.

He'd agreed to an emotionless affair, a physical one. He'd agreed to listen to her and take her to bed and make her feel wanted.

He hadn't agreed to actually want her.

Especially not like this.

Three mornings later, Narcissa awoke without a hangover for the first time in two weeks. Not because she hadn't had anything to drink the night before, but presumably because the same amount of alcohol no longer affected her that strongly. She had developed a tolerance.

Shit.

Maybe she was an alcoholic.

"Good morning, dear," said Lucius. He was already dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his shoes. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

They hadn't spoken about their fight. He'd come home the following afternoon in a great mood, told her she looked beautiful even though she definitely did not, joined her for dinner, complimented her on the lasagna she'd made, and basically acted like none of it had ever happened, as they'd both been pretending ever since, despite the still-visible bruising on her throat.

"Morning, darling."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I think so," she said. "I had a nightmare at one point, but I've forgotten it already."

"Probably for the best."

"Lucius? I have a question."

He sighed, his smile fading. "Narcissa, let's not fight."

"Who said anything about fighting? I have a bloody question."

"You have a question that wasn't going to lead to us fighting?" His blue eyes twinkled, almost the way they used to, and she found she couldn't maintain her scowl.

"I was going to ask a question about Juliet."

"Ah-ha!" said Lucius! He stood, snapping his fingers. "I knew you were going to pick a fight with me. I've known you for a long time, Narcissa. I can read your mind."

"You can _not_ ," she argued. "I'll have you know, I'm a natural Occlumens."

"Okay," he said condescendingly, but with a smile. "I'm sure you are, dear."

"Bite me, I am!"

"Bite you?"

"I… Bella says that."

"Bite you?"

"Yes, bite me. Lucius, you couldn't read my mind if it were a book that you… that you happened to be reading."

He cracked up. "Nice one, Narcissa. Very clever."

"You're an ass," she replied, but she couldn't help giggling. "That was a pretty terrible comeback, wasn't it?"

"Awful, dear. Simply awful."

"I'll set my mind to it and come up with better."

"I'll know what you've come up with before you come out with it because I can read your mind. Come downstairs. Let's eat lunch. I'm starving."

"I'm not even dressed. I'm wearing a nightgown."

"Then get dressed." He climbed onto the bed, over to her, and pulled off her nightgown. She, in response, dragged up the covers so she was still hidden from view. "I'll help you."

"You won't help me."

"Narcissa…" he pressed his lips to hers. When they parted, he said, "For what it's worth, I told her that I have no intention of leaving you."

"It's not worth much," she said, but she allowed him to kiss her again. He flattened his body on top of hers, the blanket separating them. She was just starting to think maybe things hadn't changed so much they couldn't change back when the bedroom door opened so hard and fast the knob smacked against the wall.

"Cissy! I need you!"

"Damn it, Bellatrix!" cursed Lucius, rolling off of his wife, who was, thankfully, still fully covered. "You're worse than a toddler!"

"Look, Cissy! Lucius, get out, this is private. Cissy, look!"

Lucius rolled his eyes, grabbed Narcissa's wand, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"You really should change the wards on your bedroom," said Bellatrix, climbing onto the bed on her knees. "It's very easy to get in."

"You're not kidding," said Narcissa. She pointed to the crumbled nightgown on the end of the bed. "Hand me that. I'm not dressed."

"You're fine," said Bella dismissively, but she threw the nightgown at Narcissa, hitting her in the face. "Look!" Bella lifted up her shirt – she had taken to wearing Muggle maternity wear, stretchy cotton shirts and loose-fitting peasant skirts – and circled the outline of the baby's foot against her skin. "This is precisely what I was describing the other day! I… Cissy, what are you doing?"

Narcissa had disappeared under the blanket entirely, covering even her head, as she struggled to put on the nightgown without showing any skin.

"You know I'm going to expect you to be there when I birth this little monster, right?" asked Bellatrix, annoyed. "So you're probably going to see a lot me _you_ haven't seen before."

"And I'll obliviate myself afterward," said Narcissa, emerging from under the covers. Show me this foot.

"Right here!" Bella switched back to excitement mode. "Look at it! It's a perfect little foot with perfect little toes. You can _see_ that it has toes. It has _toes_!"

"It's supposed to have toes. It's a baby, not an octopus. Wow, meanwhile, what are these?" Narcissa traced the red lines along the sides of Bella's belly with her fingertips. "You have stretch marks. Worse than mine were. And you're not even as big as I was. You should try Essence of Dittany. They won't just go away on their own once it's born, you know."

"I'm showing you my baby's fucking foot and all you care about is stretch marks?!"

"No, Bella, I'm sorry. I… I love your baby's foot. It's… it's a nice foot."

Bellatrix pouted, fixing her shirt. "It _is_ a nice foot. A perfect little foot with perfect little toes. This baby, Narcissa… It's going to be me, in miniature. From the very beginning, I'm going to teach it to do all the things I didn't learn until I went to Hogwarts, all the things I didn't learn until I met the Dark Lord. Fuck that underaged magic decree. I'm going to get my baby a wand soon as it's old enough to walk!"

"And it will use that wand as a pacifier or stick it up its nose and accidentally blow its perfect little toes right off its perfect little foot. There's a reason we don't start teaching children to harvest their magic until they're eleven."

"My child won't be as stupid as other children. She or he will be able to handle magic at a considerably younger age. She, I think. I have a feeling I'm having a she. She feels she-like. Did you know Draco would be a boy?"

"No, but I hoped. I didn't want a girl."

"Well I do. The Dark Lord currently doesn't have much interest in my… situation… but I know, once she's born, once He sees her, He's going to love her as much as I do, because I will raise her to be of service to Him, so He'll view her as an investment, like me, like I was!"

Narcissa found this plainly horrifying. "You want the Dark Lord to view her as He has viewed you? Bella, He's… He's done terrible things to you!"

"Oh, Cissy, please, He adores me. He'd never say it but I know He does. Last night, we… well, it doesn't matter. But He adores me."

"The Dark Lord adores you?" Narcissa regarded her sister with a mix of confusion and revulsion. "Bella, darling, I know you're… you're a tad obsessed with Him, but…"

"He told me, Cissy!"

"He told you He adores you?"

"Yes!"

Narcissa raised en eyebrow. Bella looked away.

"Okay… no. Not in so many words. But He gave me this… look…" She held out her hand. On her ring finger, she wore a ring with a thin silver band. In the center, there was one large green stone flanked by two smaller green stones. Narcissa recognized them as emeralds. She'd seen the ring on her sister's finger before, but never given it much thought. Bellatrix had a tendency to wear a lot of jewely. She had taste that ran almost as expensive as that of her sister, but she preferred a dark connection with whatever she'd wear, like snake earrings formerly worn by a famous witch who murdered Muggles in the 17th Century, or the bracelet that had been cursed to burn the skin of anyone of impure blood. She wore several rings on a daily basis, all silver, including ones on her left thumb and right forefinger. Her favorite was one on right middle finger that boased a large dark blue diamond. It was worth a fortune and had once belonged to a concubine of Grindelwald.

This new one was on her left hand, between her pinky and middle finger, where a wedding ring would go, except that a wedding ring had always been the one piece of jewely about which Bella had no interest.

"He gave this to me for Christmas, Cissy. Because I am His most faithful and most loyal and most valuable, and when my child is born – my daughter, I'm certain it's a girl – when she's born, I will raise her to be just as faithful and loyal and therefore valuable and He will be happy. This may come as a shock to you, Cissy, but some of my fellow Death Eaters aren't His followers simply because they believe in Him. They fear Him, Cissy! Most of those imbeciles in the Ministry who converted over from Dumbledore's mindset to ours, they did so out of fear, not out of duty or loyalty or sheer common sense. They did it because they know He will win and they want to be in His good graces when He does, but their allegiance is not genuinely pledged, they don't believe in Him, they don't love Him! I will raise my daughter to love Him, Cissy. And if she loved Him, she will do anything He asks."

"Like you do?" whispered Narcissa, horrified by the prospect of raising a little girl to love that monster. Narcissa and Lucius had raised Draco to believe it was unfortunate that He fell because He had the right ideas about place and purity, but love? Certainly not.

"Yes! Like I… like I said, I am His most faithful and most loyal and most valuable and I will bring her up to be a miniature me and He will be pleased. Maybe she could be the youngest ever to take the Dark Mark. He let Draco and Hortensia have it at seventeen, but if she proves herself useful, perhaps she could be sixteen, or fourteen, or eleven."

"Eleven? A first year?"

"I told you, I'm going to ensure she knows far more of magic than most children do at that age. She will not be one of these witches who goes off to Hogwarts with only a cursory idea of how to do even the most basic spells, holding a wand for the first time, having been educated up until that point by a tutor who avoids magical education or worse – in a Muggle school, like so many do. He's going to love her, even if He can't love me… He's going to love her, Narcissa."

Bella's eyes were so wide, so bright, so hopeful, like a small child on Christmas morning. Narcissa didn't have the heart to tell her what Severus had said: that the Dark Lord was completely incapable of feeling love. So instead she hugged her older sister, placed her hand over where the baby's foot had been pressing, and suggested they go down to the kitchen for lunch.

"I have to be careful in the common areas, the Dark Lord says," explained Bellatrix, holding out her wand as they made their way down the hall. "Only you, Lucius, Draco, Severus, my idiot husband, his brother, and the Rowles know about… this. Even Pettigrew doesn't know, though I'm starting to think the memory charms I keep hitting him with are permanently damaging his brain. Or maybe he's always been a moron and I simply never noticed before. The Rowles, Rodolphus, and Rabastan had to make the Unforgivable Vow to avoid revealing it, but the Dark Lord doesn't trust Wormtail.

"Lucius didn't have to?" asked Narcissa, recalling that Juliet also knew about the pregnancy. Had she figured it out herself, or did Lucius tell her?

"I believe the Dark Lord trusts him," Bella said. "And He knows you won't say anything. How could you? You don't have any way of communicating with anyone outside this Manor. Owls are being watched and you can't apparate. Besides, you're my sister, and if I can't trust my own sister…"

"Oh, Bella!" Narcissa threw her arms around her sister (as best she could, anyway) and hugged her. Bellatrix pulled away, looking at Narcissa as if she'd gone mad.

"The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Noth… nothing." Her sister's words had just reminded her of her own thoughts, back before she started her affair with Severus, when she was contemplating who could be sleeping with her husband and discounted her sister because, 'If you can't trust your sister, who can you trust?'

"Why did you feel the need to accost me just not?"

"I… love you. That's all." Narcissa smiled.

"That's weird," said Bellatrix. "You're weird."

"Don't you love me?"

"Of course, but I'm not going to go violating your personal space in the middle of the hallway!"

"Bellatrix Black!" Narcissa put her hands on her hips, indignant, but also fighting a laugh. "You crawl into my bed, you bother me in the shower, you let yourself into my room when my husband and I are… busy… and you think it's a violation of personal space for me to hug you in the hallway? At least you're not naked!"

"Who's not naked in the hallway?" asked Lucius, entering from the parlor. He did not wait for a response. "I had a house elf prepare lunch for all of us in the dining room. You're just in time. Come along."

Narcissa sighed. Though it had been over six months since Charity Burbage was murdered by the Dark Lord and devoured by His snake on their dining room table, Narcissa still lost her appetite every time she had to eat in there.

When they arrived, they were surprised to see a relatively crowded room.

"I can't go in there!" gasped Bellatrix. "Everyone will know!"

"It's alright, Bella," hissed the cold voice of the Dark Lord from behind them. Narcissa jumped. _Clear your mind!_ Both sisters turned around. "Everyone present has already agreed not to reveal your condition, but to ensure they keep their promise, I have made each of them take the Unbreakable Vow, thus if they reveal to anyone not in this room, they will die most painfully. Not Wormtail, though. He knows nothing. He's down in the dungeons for the afternoon."

"Who's here, my Lord?" asked Narcissa, both hoping that Severus would be present and hoping that he would not. It was midday during the week, so she assumed the odds were slim…

"Everyone who resides here, of course, plus Dolohov, Macnair, Hortensia, Pyrites, and that young girl, Juliet Rosier."

"Wonderful," said Narcissa sarcastically. "Won't it be lovely to see cousin Juliet again, Bella?"

"Indeed," said Bellatrix. "And I'm so glad _Whore_ tensia could make it." She spit on the floor. Narcissa would have Vanished it, but Lucius still had her wand.

"Tut, tut," said the Dark Lord. He kissed Bellatrix on the forehead.

Bella beamed at Narcissa, as if to say, 'See? He adores me!' But honestly, to Cissy, the kiss seemed placating at best, as a parent would do to an insolent child, not at all romantic. Perhaps sensing that this had made Narcissa uncomfortable, the Dark Lord took Narcissa's small, pale hand in His and brought it to His lips. "Mrs. Malfoy..." He looked from Cissy to Bella and back again. "Play nice."

"I'm always nice," replied Narcissa, in the same moment Bellatrix said, "Well fuck that."

Without further response, the Dark Lord swept into the room, leaving them behind in the hall.

"I'm not hungry," said Narcissa, turning to head back to her room.

"No, sorry, nope. If I have to suffer, you have to suffer." Bellatrix grabbed Cissy's arm and steered her into the room.

And all eyes were on them.

Or, more accurately, all eyes were on Bellatrix's significantly expanded midsection.

"For fuck's sake, put your eyes back in," she snapped, making her way to the table, ignoring their stares, not crazy about being the proverbial elephant in the room.

To the obvious delight of Bellatrix, the Dark Lord allowed her to take the seat beside Him to the left, where Severus had sat the last time they were all together. Narcissa sat beside her, with Lucius next, then Juliet.

Silently, Narcissa was seething. How dare that uppity bitch sit beside Lucius in their home, right in front of everyone. Narcissa was so furiously intent upon alternating thoughts about committing murder and clearing her mind she didn't hear any of the conversation that went on during the meal, nor could she taste the food. But she did have two full glasses of wine before Lucius tapped her glass with his wand (no, _her_ wand!) and turned the third into water.

She glared at him, and then tensed when she felt his hand on her knee. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, leaned over, and whispered, "I wouldn't have married you if I didn't want to be married to you, nor would I remained married to you if I wanted otherwise."

But as soon as she responded with a slight smile that told him she understood, he returned to chatting with Juliet about Merlin-only-knows-what.

Narcissa looked away, blinking back tears.

To her right, Bellatrix was entirely engrossed in whatever the Dark Lord was saying or doing, staring at Him with puppy dog eyes, hungry for His approval, not for the food in front of them. They were midway through the meal when Narcissa heard his footsteps across the dining room floor.

Severus.

"I apologize for my tardiness, my Lord. We had a slight issue at Hogwarts."

"Join us, Severus," said the Dark Lord, indicating the free seat between Juliet Rosier and Hortensia Higgins. He settled into it and a plate of food promply appeared before him. "What was the issue?"

"The Carrows prefer inflicting torture upon willful, disobedient students, using their self-created mind-melting jinx rather than assigning detentions. While I appreciate their... _enthusiasm_ … that is not how we handle minor matters at Hogwarts."

"Ah, yes." The Dark Lord chuckled. "I knew they would serve well in their roles, but I suppose it is necessary to rein them in on occasion. We wish to mold the minds of students, not melt them."

"Precisely," agreed Severus. He tapped his own wine glass and it filled itself.

Now Narcissa was even more distracted. And even more determined to keep her mind clear.

When the meal was over (finally!) and the Dark Lord was through reminding is followers of their duties and the best ways to achieve their means, they were dismissed. He vacated first, claiming He had business and would return to Malfoy Manor in a few days, which seemed to depress Bellatrix. Lucius, ignoring Juliet, who clearly still wanted his attention, asked Severus if he wanted to stay for a bourbon or scotch in the parlor to catch up, as he felt the two friends had barely seen or spoken with each other since Severus' appointment as Headmaster.

"I can manage an hour or two before I must return to the school," said Severus. He glanced at Narcissa. "Join us?"

"We'll join you," said Bellatrix, answering for her sister, presumably just glad not to be locked in her bedroom or in the Dark Lord's chambers for a change.

"I'll meet you there," said Lucius. "First I need to show Juliet out. It's only polite."

"Certainly," said Narcissa, rolling her eyes. "Merlin forbid you forgo manners as far as _she's_ concerned."

"Let's not fight," said Lucius through clenched teeth. "I will meet you there."

Without speaking, Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Severus headed to the parlor, but at the entrance, Bella kept walking.

"Where are you going?" asked Narcissa. "This is the parlor."

"I'm not an idiot," said Bellatrix.

"Really?" asked Severus dryly. "I'm shocked. Is that a matter of opinion, or have you been tested?

"I'm hungry," said Bellatrix, ignoring him.

"Hungry?" asked Narcissa. "You just finished lunch!"

"I'm hungry for chocolate," amended Bella. "I'm going off in search of cupcakes or pudding or fudge… I'm desperate. I'll be right back, don't worry."

"Trust me," said Severus, "No one is worried."

"Sod off," she said, but without her usual vitriol. Being pregnant was exhausting. She didn't have enough energy leftover to fight with Snape.

Once they were alone, he stepped to Narcissa, placing his hand on her waist.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice low.

"You mean since you disappeared on me two weeks ago? Without a word? You have have written. You could have sent an Owl. It only had to be two words – 'We're over!' – and I would've gotten the picture."

"I was wrong to do that to you," he said. "I was worried about you the other night, after your message. I rushed straight here. Do you remember? You were passed out in the attic. You'd been brewing Amortentia."

"That _was_ you. I thought I dreampt… It doesn't matter. You don't want me. I get it."

"It matters," said Severus. "I _do_ want you. You don't get it."

She turned away from him, away from his touch, hugging her arms around herself.

"Thank you for coming the other night, but why? Why did you do that to me?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I can't explain it. Or perhaps I can, but not in detail not here, not now. Narcissa…" His hands her again on her waist, snaking around, clasping together in front of her. Despite her anger, she moved one of her hands from her arm to his, holding onto him, wanting him to keep holding her. His lips went to her neck, barely touching her skin, as he whispered, "I wanted you. I wanted you so badly it frightened me. That's why I pulled away. And I _am_ sorry." He kissed her just below the ear. She reached up with her right hand, cupped his cheek, turned her head, and let her lips meet his in a tender kiss. His tongue found hers and she moaned into the kiss, turning her body, wanting him flush against her. He stepped forward and she stumbled back against the wall, as his hands moved to her arse, and she deepened the kiss, her hands on his biceps, holding him close.

"We're going to get caught," she murmured between kisses, grinding against him, weak-kneed with desire. "You should stop."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No. Don't stop."

"I won't."

"Okay." She put her left arm around his shoulders, drawing her right hand up to the center of his chest, wondering if it were possible to feel his heart beating as she could feel her sister's baby kicking. She also wondered if his pulse was quickening, as hers was. She opened her mouth a little wider as their kiss grew in intensity. His hands roamed over her back and shoulders and down to her arse and finally settled on her hips, pulling her closer to him, not that they could get any closer, really, and he could taste the wine on her tongue. They were breathing heavy, faces flushed, eyes darkened with desire, when they finally parted.

"I want to take you out," he said. "We'll go to dinner, somewhere they'll be no danger of running into any witches or wizards. Maybe somewhere afterward. Perhaps another play."

"You've said that before," she reminded him. "You said we'd make plans for Valentine's Day. I haven't forgiven you, for the record."

He took her face gently in his hands, making eye contact. "I made a mistake. How can I compell you to forgive me?"

"Grovel at my feet," said Narcissa, tilting her chin up, looking a bit like her sister for a moment. He smirked.

"Not here. But I _do_ want to take you out. I want to be with you… away from here. And perhaps I'll grovel then."

"Take me out? Like on a date?" Her eyes glinted hopefully.

"Don't know if I'd call it a date…"

"Dinner, possibly something after, maybe a play. Presumably you'll hold my hand if I ask you to, you'll definitely kiss me goodnight, and even more likely, we'll end up in bed somewhere before I return home. If not a date, what would you call it?"

"A damn fine evening?"

"If you want to do awful, dirty things to me, Severus Snape, you'd better call it a date."

"I want to do awful, dirty things _with_ you, not _to_ you, and have it your way, if you must. You may call it a date."

She shook her head. "No. I don't need permission to call it a date. I'm going to call it a date regardless of what you say. What I want is for _you_ to call it a date."

"Very well…" he placed a quick kiss on her nose and backed away upon hearing footsteps in the hall. "It's a date."

Lucius entered mere moments later.

"What'd I miss?" he asked. "Severus, a scotch? Narcissa, you haven't offered him anything? What kind of hostess are you?"

"I offered him something," she said, winking at Severus since Lucius was looking away.

"Damn it," said Lucius, staring into the empty liquor cabinet. "I forget that I had the house elves clean this out."

He snapped his fingers. Squeakers the house elf appeared with a POP.

"A bottle of scotch," Lucius demanded. "Red wine for her. One of the mini bottles. And glasses."

"Yes, Master Malfoy, Mister, Sir!"

They were seated and chatting about the weather when Bellatrix waddled in, carrying a massive slice of chocolate cake in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. She positioned herself beside Narcissa on the couch, across from Lucius and Severus, who were settled in the wing-backed chairs.

"What we discussing?" she asked before popping a huge bite into her mouth.

"This dreary snow," said Lucius. "But now that you're here, let's talk about the baby. When is it due? Who's the father?"

Narcissa's eyes went wide. Severus became suddenly interested in staring into his scotch glass. Bellatrix's mouth dropped open.

"That's not your business!" insisted Bellatrix. "It's not your business who I… who its… who fathered… It's not your business!"

"It's not anyone in this room, is it?" asked Narcissa with a teasing smile, hoping to diffuse the tension. Bella's upper lip curled into a sneer.

"Certainly not, Cissy. That's disgusting. I have standards!"

Lucius laughed out loud at this, while Severus held back a scoff. Unbeknownst to Narcissa, both men actually _had_ had sex with her sister in the past, though, thankfully, neither had been with her recently enough to have gotten into this situation.

"I won't reveal to you the identity of the father," said Bellatrix haughtily, setting her plate to rest atop her swollen belly. "But I can assure you that it isn't one of these petty fuckwits who grovel at the feet of the Dark Lord like insubordinants."

"So it's no one we know?" asked Narcissa. Again Severus choked back a chuckle. Lucius, though, didn't find this amusing.

"I certainly don't grovel," he insisted. "And I don't believe Severus does either. Do you?"

"Not often," said Severus offhandedly. "But every now and then I suppose a man needs a good groveling, eh?" He looked to Narcissa, who blushed, stifling a giggle into her wine glass. Bellatrix nodded as if what he'd said made perfect sense, and Lucius looked them all over like they'd gone mad.

Conversation moved away from Bella's baby and remained politely innocuous for the rest of the hour, as they discussed the Carrows' positions at Hogwarts, Draco's latest Owl update, new developments at the Ministry, and the possibility that Harry Potter would be found soon, when Severus rose, explaining that he had to return to the school before anyone realized he was gone. Lucius offered to walk him out, which disappointed Narcissa as she'd been about to offer the same.

Only two hours later, once she'd gotten her wand back from Lucius, she discovered he'd already sent her a message via the enchanted notebook.

 _Hogsmeade weekend Saturday. I'll meet you at the Shrieking Shack and from there we will apparate to dinner. 8pm. Students will have returned to Hogwarts by then. Yes? -SS_

 _Yes_. _Of course, yes. -NM_

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for all of the well wishes and personal notes in the recent reviews and via PM. I hugely appreciate your understanding. This chapter and the next weren't originally part of my plan, but since the last one was so drastically changed I needed this one for a transition and the next is pure fluff… then Bella's baby is born! Yay! I have also posted a slightly watered-down version of the Bellatrix/Voldemort smut fic (bc ffnet doesn't allow anything rated higher than M) so feel free to check that out if you're interested. It's called Devoted to Darkness. I'm happy to say I am back on track now. Thanks for reading! - **AL**


	30. Date Night, February, 1998

**A/N:**

Sorry for the delay! This little "fluff" chapter ended up being 14,000 words long. For perspective, the first chapter was about 2000 words and a typical chapter book is about 17,000. But I had so much to cram into Date Night and couldn't split it in a way that made me happy, so this is what happened! I hope the extra length makes up for the wait. Next chapter, we meet Bella's baby. Yay! Also note, there is a teensy tiny ickle bitty shout-out to Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them in this chapter. It's not a spoiler in that it doesnt _spoil_ anything, but I hope it makes you smile if you recognize it!

 **-AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty – Date Night, February, 1998**

Somewhere in the middle of the night after making arrangements with Severus, Narcissa remembered that she couldn't simply apparate to Hogsmeade to meet him at the Shrieking Shack at 8pm Saturday.

So she needed a plan.

And, all on her own, she came up with one.

Polyjuice Potion.

Fortunately for Narcissa, she'd been brewing Polyjuice potion off-and-on for the better part of the last school year – it was the one contribution to the Dark Lord's cause she was able to make, since Severus was too busy with his duties as Hogwarts headmaster to be sneaking down into the dungeons to brew. Unlike her private potions activities in the attic, this one she kept in the basement, a far away as possible from the prisoners in the dungeon. She had no idea what the Dark Lord was using it for, nor she did want to, but at the moment it was readily available. How had this not occurred to her sooner? All she'd need was a bit of hair from someone who had the Dark Mark and she should be able to fool the wards surrounding Malfoy Manor.

The trouble was, whose hair?

Couldn't be Bella's. Being so far along in her pregnancy, it wouldn't be safe for her to apparate. Narcissa wasn't sure, but she assumed there would also be issues for anyone attempting to become her in trying to do so. Too risky. Narcissa didn't want to splinch herself… and nor did she want to feel again what it was like to be pregnant.

She also didn't want to turn herself into a man, so that ruled out Lucius, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Thorfinn Rowle, leaving Euphemia as the only other one in the house… but Narcissa wasn't certain Euphemia had ever received the Dark Mark.

What about Juliet?

Had she been Marked yet?

Only one way to find out.

In order to put him in a good mood before asking, Narcissa woke Lucius a few hours later by doing _that thing_ he didn't think she should do. For a man who told his mistress his wife had no talent in that area, he seemed to appreciate her efforts, and this time, she did manage to bring him to completion.

"What was that for?" he asked once she was done. Sleepy and satisfied, he pulled her into his arms in their bed, holding her as he hadn't done in so long.

"I just love you, that's all," she said, trying not to feel remorse over having used physical satisfaction and empty words to manipulate him, as Bella had been doing to various members of the opposite sex since they were at Hogwarts. "Darling, what if I wanted to receive the Dark Mark?"

"What?" Genuine surprise lit his blue eyes. "Why? You've never shown any interest."

"Bellatrix is… persuasive. She thinks I haven't done enough to help the Dark Lord. But I told her, I didn't think the Dark Lord would have much use for me anyway. He isn't terribly fond of women in general, is He? I mean, how many women even have the Dark Mark?"

"Well," said Lucius, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Of course we don't all know each other's identities, as He keeps us separated and masked for obvious reasons, but of those I know about, including His inner and just-outer circles, there's your sister, Hortensia Higgins, Alecto Carrow, my mother's friend Hazel Whitecrest, Artemisia Crabbe… and… let's see… Oh, Ezzalee Brooklyn, you remember her?"

"Blaise's mother?"

"Right."

"Is that all?"

"Yes… them… oh, and your cousin, Juliet. She's the most recent recruit to have received the Mark."

Narcissa smiled. That was all she'd needed to know.

"You have to kill someone, don't you?" asked Narcissa. Lucius nodded. "In that case, I don't think… I don't know what I was thinking. Nevermind."

"I knew you wouldn't want to go through with it," said Lucius. "You're not a murderer, Narcissa. Not that murder is the sole prerequisite. Juliet's never killed anyone. Neither has Draco."

"But you have?" asked Narcissa. She snuggled closer to him, content to be held, even if it wasn't her husband she wanted to hold her. "Have you killed anyone? I know Bella has, though she says she prefers to leave her victims alive and broken over leaving them dead. What about you, darling? What have you done?"

"Nothing worth discussing. Don't trouble yourself over it, dear." He kissed her forehead. "I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me?"

She giggled upon catching the wicked grin on his face, but ultimately declined. "Sorry. I prefer to shower alone."

"Oh, come on, now! It'll be nice. I'll wash your hair…" He ran his fingers through it. "Shower with me?"

"You know I won't," she said. She kissed his cheek. "So why ask?"

"Someday you might say yes," he said simply.

While he was in the shower, she sent a message to Severus.

 _I know how I'm getting out of here on Saturday. I have a plan and it's brilliant. I'll see you at the Shrieking Shack. All I need you to do is get Lucius out of the house by 1 on Friday and don't let him return until 2:30 or 3. Can you do that? –NM_

 _He's been after me to have lunch together for weeks, so that should be easily arranged. -SS_

At one-thirty on Friday, Narcissa put phase one of her plan into place. She had Bellatrix summon Juliet to Malfoy Manor using her Dark Mark, since Bella was the only Death Eater who had the power to call other Death Eaters (any of them could touch their wand to their Mark to summon the Dark Lord, but not each other, and certainly not any one other Death Eater specifically. Bellatrix alone was entrusted with this power, as she'd accidentally revealed to Narcissa one evening while bragging about how much more highly He viewed her over the others). She made sure Lucius had left with Rodolphus' wand instead of her own, assuming she might need hers. It hadn't taken much to bribe Rodolphus to let Lucius keep the wand for the weekend - Narcissa finally arranged for him to have his own room.

As far as Bellatrix knew, they were summoning Juliet to have a little chat about her _place,_ which she seemed to have forgotten again, given the number of Owls she was sending Lucius as of late and the fact that they were planning to go away together over the weekend (or so Narcissa assumed, since Lucius had said he'd be gone overnight). Narcissa viewed this as a win-win. Or, a win-win-win. Bella would get to feel powerful and useful, Juliet would, hopefully, leave feeling at least a little afraid, and Narcissa would, at some point, be able to steal a strand of two of her hair. It was the perfect plan. What could go wrong?

"I was summoned by the Dark Lord," Juliet said, sweeping into Malfoy Manor with an air of self-importance.

"You're to report to the parlor," said Narcissa in a bored voice. "I'll escort you."

"No need. I know where it is."

"Very well," said Narcissa, but she followed her cousin to the room anyway. When they arrived, the room was dark, lit only by a single candle on the coffee table between the couch and wing-backed chairs. Bellatrix sat in one of the chairs, eerily silhouetted by the flickering light.

"Where's the Dark Lord?" asked Juliet. Bellatrix flicked her wand. The door slammed shut, followed by a click, indicating it was locked.

"The Dark Lord didn't summon you, little girl, I did," said Bella. Her black hair was teased out and wild, her black eyes were manic and glowing in the dim light, and her long, silver-painted nails gleamed like sharp knives at the ends of her fingers. Even pregnant, even with her skin glowing pleasantly and her stomach huge and round, she still looked so intimidating she gave her own sister goose bumps. "Come in. Have a seat."

"Y-you? How is that possible?" Juliet refused to take a step forward, even when Narcissa tried nudging her.

"I have powers that His other followers could never imagine," explained Bellatrix. "He's taught me everything. You'll come sit across from me willingly, or I'll compel you to do so. Which Unforgivable do you prefer? The Imperius or the Cruciatus? I'm not partial to either over the other, as generally both are equally effective in helping me achieve my goals. Don't worry, though. I won't kill you. That wouldn't please the Dark Lord. Torture you, force you, even possess you, I could do any of those, but I certainly won't kill you. Not today."

Juliet took a small, apprehensive step, then paused.

"You're taking too long," said Bellatrix. She put her wand down on the table, pointed her finger at Juliet, and whispered, "Crucio."

Juliet fell forward, her knees hitting the floor with a smack. When the curse subsided, she was still on all fours, tears stinging her eyes.

"If I have to do that again," said Bellatrix quietly, "I'll use my wand, and it'll hurt ten times as much. Understand?"

Juliet glared at Bellatrix for a moment. Then her eyes glazed over.

"Have it your way," said Bella. She indicated for the girl to stand, which she did, then beckoned her forward. Clearly under the Imperius curse, Juliet made her way to the couch and sat. Bellatrix waved her hand, ending it.

"I know you think you're smart and capable, being a former Ravenclaw and all that rubbish, but you're no match for me, child. I literally have more power in my left index finger than you've got coursing through your body and out your wand."

"What do you want from me?" asked Juliet, a slight tremor in her voice. From behind her, Narcissa caught Bella's eye and grinned.

"I intercepted an Owl from you to my brother-in-law. I found the contents… disturbing," said Bellatrix. "Care to explain?"

Narcissa's smile wavered. A disturbing Owl was news to her.

"I… I don't know… Which Owl?"

 _"_ _I don't know, which Owl?"_ Bella mocked. She cackled. "Why don't you tell us about your last few and I'll let you know when you've hit it right. Cissy! Come sit. You should hear this."

Even in the pale flickering of the candlelight, Narcissa could see that Juliet had gone ghost-white.

"I… I don't remember…" said Juliet, glancing from Bellatrix to Narcissa as the latter settled into the opposite chair.

"Liar!" Bellatrix picked up her wand and pointed it at the young woman. "I'm also a superb Legilimens, another skill the Dark Lord saw fit to cultivate in me well before I was your age. Do you want to tell us the truth or should I see it for myself?"

"I… all I wrote… all I said… all I asked… was for him to… to…" Again she looked at Narcissa and back to Bellatrix. "To do… the _honorable_ thing…"

Now it was Narcissa who went pale. "He's gotten you pregnant, hasn't he?"

"He has indeed," confirmed Bellatrix. "But don't worry, Cissy. She's going to get rid of it at St. Mungos this weekend. Aren't you, Jules? It's alright if I call you Jules, right? Didn't we agree Jules could be your nickname?"

"I… yes, Jules is fine…"

"Of course it's fine. It's fine because I said it's fine. Now, Narcissa, this probably won't shock you, but Jules here got herself knocked up on purpose. Didn't you, dear?"

"I…"

"If you lie to me, I'll hurt you," added Bella, twirling her wand between her thumb and index finger. "Do you _want_ me to hurt you? Do you _like_ it when I hurt you? I've hurt other women in ways your tiny brain could barely fathom, Cousin, and don't think being related means I wouldn't do worse to you."

Juliet was positively shaking. Narcissa would be enjoy this, if she weren't upset over learning her husband had knocked the girl up... and, quite frankly, if she wasn't almost as terrified of her own sister as their cousin was.

"Well?" asked Bellatrix. "You're getting rid of it, yes?"

"We _are_ going away this weekend,"confirmed Juliet, wringing her hands. "But not to St. Mungos. To St. Gabriel's, in Paris. I'm going to… to have it done there… so no one knows… We already discussed it. He made it quite clear… quite clear that… that I'm… that you're…" She looked to Narcissa.

"That I'm his wife and he has no vested interest in you?"

"Well… I mean… Not exactly… More like… He… When I… when I suggested…"

"Spit it out," snapped Bellatrix. "At this rate, my daughter's going to be a year old by the time you finish your explanation and I'm not going to miss her first birthday party because I'm sitting here listening to the likes of you. My sister desires information." Bella twirled her wand, then flicked it, making Juliet flinch. "Now, talk."

"During that… trip… when the Dark Lord send us away for four days, when I had to prove my worth so I could get a step closer to receiving the Dark Mark, Lucius told me about Endora Selwyn. Then he said he could never leave you because you're the mother of his child. So that's when I thought… I thought…"

"That's cute," said Bellatrix, using her wand to draw a heart of pink smoke in the air, which she then dissected with a green line that became the snake from the Dark Mark symbol's mouth. "You thought if you gave him a child, he'd love you?"

"He already loves me!" argued Juliet. It was the wrong response.

"Crucio," said Bella lazily, barely moving her wand. Juliet doubled over. A sob escaped her throat.

"Stop it," said Narcissa, grabbing Bella's wrist. "She's still pregnant. For all we know, the baby can feel that."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "So? Certainly you don't care about the mongrel bastard our dear cousin has conceived, Cissy?"

"Of course not," said Narcissa with more conviction than she felt. "But it's the bitch who should suffer, not the little mutt inside her."

"Any baby of mine would _not_ be a mutt!" Juliet stood, wiping the Crucio-induced tears from her eyes, and drew her wand. "I'm as pureblood as you are, Bellatrix Lestrange! I'm a Rosier, like your mother! We're _all_ members of the Sacred 28 too!"

"My mother was a Rosier and my father was a Black. Your father was a Rosier," said Bellatrix, "But your mother was the whore for whom he left our aunt. She was not a member of the Sacred 28. For all we know, she could've had more Muggle blood in her than magical blood. Making her – what, Cissy?"

"A Mudblood," supplied Narcissa.

"A Mudblood!" concurred Bellatrix. "Probably why this little girl ended up in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin, especially considering that she seems more cunning than she does intelligent. Has to be a reason, right? That the Sorting Hat kept you out of our House? I think we've hit on it. You're a Mudblood. Your dirty-blood mother–"

"That's not true!"

"Crucio!" Bellatrix only let the curse last a matter of seconds, but it was enough to bring Juliet back to her knees. "Sorry, Cissy, but I can't stand being interrupted. Since you want to talk so badly, Jules, why don't you tell us all about how you'll stop seeing my brother-in-law once the deed is done this weekend?"

"No!" said Narcissa. "No, she can keep right on seeing him if she wants to."

"What?" asked Bellatrix and Juliet in unison.

"I don't care what she does with him. If it's not her, it's someone else. At least if it's her, we know she won't make the same mistake twice."

"The mistake of getting… getting pregnant?" asked Juliet.

"No," said Narcissa. She rose and moved to sit beside Juliet on the couch, leaning in close. "The mistake of thinking you mean something special to my husband. You don't. I warned you before to mind your place, didn't I?" Narcissa wrapped her index finger in a thick section of Juliet's hair from her ponytail and twisted it around her hand. "Sure, he'll talk to you and he'll kiss you and hold you and fuck you and maybe he'll even pretend that he loves you, but he won't value you, or respect you, or want anything more than what he's already got from you." She yanked the girls head back by the hair she was holding, so Juliet was facing the ceiling, and put her lips close to Juliet's ear, lowering her voice. "If you can understand and accept that, keep seeing my Lucius. You have my permission. That saves Bella and I the trouble of having to go through all this again with another girl in a few months. Understand?"

Upon releasing Juliet's hair, Narcissa managed to pull out a couple of strands that had become loose, which she quickly pocketed, her true mission accomplished. Bellatrix's face relaxed into a grin. She was clearly impressed by her sister in this moment.

Narcissa made her way back to the chair, sitting straight-backed with her ankles crossed, perfectly manicured hands clasped together in her lap, ever the epitome of high class.

"I… I don't know if he'll still want me," answered Juliet, voice trembling. "I don't know anything anymore."

"As long as you know where you stand with us," said Bellatrix, "That's all that matters now."

Juliet nodded.

"Good," said Bella, expressionless. She blew out the candle. "Then I believe we're done here, Jules. You may go. Oh - but don't say a word of this to anyone, not even Lucius. If you do, you'll regret it. And if you do... I'll know. Go on now." She waved her hand, dismissing the girl. "We're done here."

With another nod and yet another look from Bellatrix to Narcissa and back again, Juliet rose and hurried from the room in the dark. As soon as they heard her footsteps fade as she retreated down the hallway, Bellatrix waved her wand and the lights came back on.

"Bloody brilliant, Narcissa!" said Bellatrix as her sister helped her into a standing position. "You were beautiful! We didn't even have to hurt her much – which I was a bit disappointed about, to be perfectly candid – but I believe she got the message."

"Hurt her _much_?" asked Narcissa. "You used the Cruciatus on her three times!"

"Child's play," said Bellatrix offhandedly. "I barely made it count. How are you feeling, Love?"

"I don't know. Numb, I suppose. I didn't know she was… that's she's…"

"I didn't either," said Bellatrix, pushing herself into a standing position. "I didn't read a damn thing in any one of her Owls and I didn't use Legilimency on her either. There was no need. I just bluffed and she bought it. That Ravenclaw slag is weak; she gave it all away for nothing – which, I suppose, we should've expected. Get it? That was a slut joke."

"I got it." Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"I can't wait to tell the Dark Lord, though!" Bella went on. "He won't want such a liability in our inner circle. She'd be the first to turn on us if Potter's side gains any sort of ground, the first to break under pressure. This was fun, though. I feel exhilarated. Most useful I've felt in weeks. Thank you, Cissy. You've put me in such a lovely mood!"

"No, thank _you_ , Bella." Narcissa rose to kiss her older sister on the cheek. "I'd be a mess without you."

"You're a mess _with_ me," said Bella, "But that's okay, I am too. We can be a mess together. Damn! That was fun. I wish we'd kept her around for longer. Now I'm bored again. Let's have lunch."

"Alright," said Narcissa. She followed her waddling sister to the kitchen, trying to forget about the fact that her husband's mistress would be having an abortion somewhere in Paris over the weekend while she was hooking up with her lover somewhere in Scotland (presumably; he hadn't actually sent her an itinerary). She was glad that Lucius had said he wouldn't leave Narcissa, not even considering the fact that he could be a father again, which is what he wanted, but it also made her feel guilty, because at this point she wasn't sure she could mind if he left. Or, more accurately, if he cast her out, since he'd made it clear Malfoy Manor was his home thus he wouldn't be the one leaving.

No time to think on that now, especially not with Bellatrix right there able to read her thoughts should she so desire.

Instead they ate lunch and talked about pleasant things – mostly about baby names, since that was all Bella had on her mind as of late – until Lucius returned home.

In just over twenty-four hour's time, Lucius and his mistress would be in Paris, saying goodbye to the child they'd created together.

In just over twenty-four hour's time, Narcissa and Severus would be on their second date.

Lucius, thankfully, did not try to take Narcissa's wand with him when he left to meet Juliet, since Rodolphus' seemed to be serving him well enough. He kissed Narcissa goodbye, apologized for having to leave "on business for the Dark Lord," and promised he'd be home the following evening. Narcissa did not let on that she knew anything at all about the Juliet situation. She merely smiled and said she'd miss him.

 _Are we still on for tonight? –NM_

 _Absolutely. I am looking forward to it. –SS_

 _As am I. You have no idea. –NM_

 _I have several ideas, actually. All of them inappropriate. –SS_

Narcissa didn't want to reveal any part of her plan to sneak out to anyone, but at the same time she was worried about what would happen should anyone come looking for her, so, doing her best to clear her mind, she paid Bellatrix a visited two hours before it was time to leave to meet Severus. Bella was sitting at the desk in her bedroom, reading a book and picking at a house elf made dinner.

"Bella, darling?" asked Narcissa softly as she entered (with permission). Bellatrix's mood had been so up and down over the last 24 hours since their confrontation with Juliet, Narcissa had decided to approach with caution at all times.

"Come all the way in and close the door, Cissy."

"It's dark in here." Narcissa waved her wand, adding more light to the room, which Bella had been doing using only candles. "You can't read like that. It's bad for your eyes."

"The Dark Lord is sore at me for what we did to Juliet." Bellatrix set her book down between her plate and a glass of pumpkin juice. "I'd hoped it would prompt Him to cast her out completely, but on the contrary, He thinks what she needs is more training to learn to throw off the Imperius curse and fight the pain of the Cruciatus. And guess who He volunteered to teach her?"

"My husband?"

"I wish. No, He seems to think you and I can do it. He says it might be good for us to get to know her better. He says it's a great way for us to be productive instead of sitting about taking up space, which is apparently all we've been doing this year thus far. I told Him I won't do it. I'll refuse and He can't make me. He said I was being childish. I replied that I am _not_ childish and then said He could bite me." Bellatrix added in a white, "I don't want to teach her stuff, Cissy!"

"Neither do I! Dammit, Bella, why'd you have to tell Him?"

"I tell Him everything!"

"You tell the Dark Lord everything? Why?"

"Because He's the damn Dark Lord, Narcissa! He's my everything so I tell Him everything."

"He's your everything?" Narcissa summoned a chair and sat across from her sister. "My darling Bella, that's so sad."

"Well, not everything," said Bella. "Now that I'm having a baby, she's half of my everything. Like you, with Lucius and Draco. They're your everything, right?"

Severus' face flashed through Narcissa's mind, which she quickly fought to clear.

"Cissy? Right?"

"No," she answered, able to conceal the truth in her mind but at the same time unable to outright lie to her sister. "If I had to pick one person, I'd say Draco is my everything, because he's my son and I love him more than life, but he's not the only person in my life that I love. I love Lucius, yes. I love you, Bella. I'll love your baby. And I love… don't get angry, but a part of me still loves Andromeda."

"I can't get mad at you," said Bella. She picked up her fork and poked at the pork chop on her plate, like a kid being forced to finish dinner but miserable about it. "I love her a little bit sometimes too, even though she's a toad-faced big-nosed backstabbing blood-traitor cunt."

"Aww," teased Narcissa. "I can tell you miss her. You're speaking of her so much more sweetly than you used to. Should we call on her? Maybe we can all be friends again?"

"Stop it." Bellatrix tried to sneer but couldn't help smiling slightly. "When my baby's born do you think she'll be my everything like Draco is yours? Do you think I'll love her more than life? More than I love the Dark Lord?"

"It disturbs me to think you love the Dark Lord at all," replied Narcissa. "It makes me wonder whether you know what love even is. But yes, darling, I _do_ think, once she's born, you'll experience a love you never knew you could, beyond any sort of obsession you've ever had over the Dark Lord, beyond anything you've ever felt for Rodolphus or for me or Andromeda or your nephew or Father or Mother…"

"I hated Mother."

"Not always," reminded Narcissa.

"Why are you here?" asked Bellatrix. "Not that I'm not perfectly content to have company to lift my sour spirits, but you must've stopped in for a reason."

"Yes. Can you keep a secret?"

"That's a stupid question. Of course I can. I could keep a secret from the Dark Lord Himself."

"I thought you tell Him everything? How would you know you can keep a secret from Him if you've never tried because you tell Him everything? That's illogical."

"Fuck off with your logic. What secret do you need me to keep?"

"I'm going out for the evening. I figured out a way. I accidentally plucked a couple of hairs off Juliet's head when we were talking to her yesterday, and I have a supply of Polyjuice I've been brewing for the Dark Lord regularly for months, so I'm going to become her in order to get past the wards that prohibit solo apparition from anyone without a Dark Mark. But I need to borrow a Muggle outfit from you and I need you to cover for me should Lucius come home early, or if anyone else inquires about my whereabouts. Can you do that for me, Bella?"

"What's in it for me?"

"The joy of knowing you've helped your baby sister?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "I'm afraid that's not enough, baby sister."

"Fine. Tell you what? I'll buy crab meat while I'm out and make you lunch tomorrow."

Bella considered this. "How about you buy the crab meat but let that affection-needy house elf make me lunch tomorrow?"

"You don't trust my ability to make lunch?"

"You put bloody onions in my fucking vegetable soup six weeks ago. I hate onions. How can I trust you after that?"

"Why do you hate onions? Onions add flavor! Plus they're good for your eyes!"

"Carrots are good for your eyes, you dunderhead, not onions!"

"How should I know what's good for your eyes? I'm a cook, not a nutritionist!"

"What's a nutritionist?"

"It's… I think it's… It's… okay, I actually don't know, but it's a Muggle thing. I believe nutritionists study things like which vegetables are good for your eyes and they all say onions!"

"What do Muggles know? They called the New York City Obscurial attacks of 1926 'gas explosions'! They're idiots!"

"An Obscurial attacked New York City? Isn't that in America? I thought those were really rare! When did this happen?"

Bellatrix sighed. "1926, I just said! For fuck's sake, didn't you pay any attention in Muggle Studies, Narcissa?"

"I didn't take Muggle Studies," said Narcissa. "And neither did you!"

"I did, actually. Third, fourth, and fifth years. Scored an Outstanding on my O.W.L. Won an award for highest marks by a non-Muggleborn in over a century. Got a little trophy, probably still on display at Hogwarts. Mother was furious."

"Why the hell did _you_ take Muggle Studies?" Narcissa looked over her sister as if she'd never seen her before. Bellatrix giggled.

"Why do you think? To infuriate Mother! Three years of useless blather about how Muggles get by without magic and the history of our world accidentally interacting with theirs after we went underground, plus a lot of rubbish about witch hunts that Binns barely skimmed over. It was an easy course; I flew right through like a Muggle on an airplane."

"What's an airplane?"

"Nevermind. You wanted an outfit?"

Narcissa nodded, trying to remember back then. She would've been a first year. She recalled Bella getting her O.W.L. results, she remembered Mother being angry… but when it came to matters concerning Bella, Mother was always angry. And Narcissa was so timid back then, so lonely… when Mother was training her to be the perfect house wife, she spent most of her free time hiding in either the attic or under her bed clutching Babbity Rabbity and crying.

Bellatrix pointed toward the wardrobe across the room.

"There's a black blouse in my wardrobe that goes well with a red skirt, the one that's tight at the top then flares out. The color would match your nails and the style would look good on you. Wear a matching red camisole under the blouse so you don't have to button it all the way. You'll look nice. Why are you going out? Are you having an affair? I hope you're having an affair. Haven't I been telling you for two straight years you ought to be having an affair?"

"I'm going out because I'm suffocating here, but I promise, if the opportunity arises, I'll add an affair to my itinerary."

"Good." Bella waved her wand and the wardrobe door opened. "You'll see the skirt on the bottom right, blouse top on the left. Here's the camisole…" She waved her wand and one let itself out of her bureau drawer, levitating over to Narcissa. "I'll cover for you. You can make me crab salad for lunch tomorrow. I trust you. Just make sure the Dark Lord doesn't find out."

"Thanks, Bella!"

Bellatrix had been right about the skirt and camisole matching her nails perfectly, and Narcissa thought it looked lovely offset by the black button down shirt. She played with the buttons, trying to decide how many to leave undone, finally going with more than half buttoned, starting from the lower center of her chest and down. She paired this with matching red lipstick and added light foundation and black mascara.

"You'd look prettier if your eyes weren't so tired looking," she said into the mirror.

"Mistress Malfoy ma'am looks very pretty, very pretty with tired eyes!" said a squeaky little voice. Narcissa jumped. She hadn't heard a POP signifying the house elf had entered.

"A reason you're here, Squeakers?"

"Mistress Bellatrix Lestrange sent me for you with this." Squeakers held out a small black box. Narcissa opened it. Inside was a bracelet that had to be worth a fortune. There were four rows of diamonds going all the way around and resting in the center of it was a pair of diamond and ruby earrings.

"Mistress Bellatrix Lestrange says she wants enough crab for salad _and_ soup," added Squeakers.

"Tell her thank you, Squeakers, and I'll bring back what I can," said Narcissa. Squeakers disapparated with a POP as Narcissa slipped the bracelet onto her delicate wrist. Now she wouldn't have to wear any of her own jewelry out, which was good, since most of her jewelry had been purchased by Lucius for her birthday, their anniversary, or as an "I'm sorry (but not sorry)" for cheating. She also affixed the earrings to her ear, then slipped on a necklace Mother had left to her, a simple silver heart outline with a teensy green emerald chip dangling in the center. Was it too much? Was she too dressed up? After all, they were only going to dinner, and maybe someplace afterward, right?

No, she decided. It was not too much. The earrings and necklace were subtle enough and the bracelet would be hidden under her coat until they were at dinner.

She pulled on black thigh-high tights, the pair she'd stolen from Bella before, and her favorite black books with a high heel, and looked herself over in the mirror one last time.

It was a twenty of eight. She needed to leave. She had enough Polyjuice potion to last half an hour, so she'd take half before leaving and half to return. She threw on her coat, made her way to the kitchen, locked the door, and downed half the potion.

She fought the urge to vomit as her body morphed unpleasantly. When she'd done this as a child, becoming her sister, she'd secretly loved it. She felt so tall and powerful (and busty!) and dangerous. But becoming Juliet was far less pleasant… Juliet was a bit shorter than Narcissa, and curvier… and pregnant… Damn it. She hadn't wanted to feel pregnant, that's why she hadn't simply taken her sister's hair (well, that and the high possibility of splinching past the second trimester). Once she was composed, she opened the kitchen door, checking for signs of life, and when it seemed clear she stepped out. She made it almost all the way to the front door before she was stopped.

"Miss Rosier!"

It was Euphemia Rowle, coming from the direction of the guest room she was still sharing with her husband, Thorfinn.

"I thought you were going away with Lucius this weekend?"

"I am," said Narcissa, aware that she was no good at copying voices but trying to mimic Juliet's to the best of her ability. "I'm late."

"His wife knows about you."

"Uh… she does?"

"You should be careful. They're psychotic, those Black sisters. If Narcissa finds out about you, she'll tell her sister, and they'll do worse than you than they did to Endora Selwyn."

"Huh?" asked Narcissa. She glanced nervously at the clock on the wall. She was wasting time! But what was Euphemia talking about?

"I knew Endora well. We were friends, good friends. Best friends. I don't believe for a moment that she killed herself in that apartment. Not for a moment. Never have. I think they did it. I'm sure Narcissa couldn't have managed on her own, though. She's not vicious enough, despite how she seems."

Narcissa glanced up at the ceiling, trying to decide whether she wanted to hear more or simply Obliviate Euphemia and hurry out.

"Her sister was in Azkaban then," said Euphemia, "But I think she had something to do with it. They let Narcissa visit her there at least once or twice. Their mother visited her too. Thorfinn worked for the Ministry back then. He told me. He told me to watch out for them, all three of them. He said they're dangerous. The mother's dead now, but the other two? I'd be worried, if I were you. Thorfinn said they tested Bellatrix's wand during her trial. Priori Incantem. The last three spells, in reverse order, were the Imperius, Obliviate, and the Cruciatus. We know she performed the Cruciatus on the Longbottoms and Thorfinn said they suspected she obliviated the boy, but then they caught her... so how did she perform the Imperius? She must have broken out somehow, used it to make Endora hang herself, then snuck back in without being noticed."

"Oh? Seems far-fetched. If she broke out of Azkaban, why go back?"

"I don't know. I haven't figured it out. But I'm sure they killed her. They must have had help. I don't think Narcissa is all that capable, she's never been anything but a trophy wife, but Bellatrix? She's terrifying."

Narcissa reached her hand up to twirl her hair, which, as Juliet, was long and white-blonde, the way Narcissa's had been for most of her life (before she started going gray and burned half of it off).

"Between you and I…" Euphemia continued, voice low. "I've been sleeping with Rodolphus for the last six months, and he's told me quite a lot about his wife. Their marriage is one of convenience. She needed a pureblood husband and he needed an heir. Funny that he started seeing me shortly before she told him she was finally expecting."

"It's not his," said Narcissa. She shook her head, remembering she was supposed to be Juliet. "I mean, is it his?"

"I think so," said Euphemia, shrugging. "He hasn't said otherwise. But he's angry with her for continuing to whore herself out while pregnant, and for disrespecting him, and for telling him she wants nothing to do with him once the baby is born, she wants it all to herself so she can raise it to serve the Dark Lord, and he's done with that rubbish. That's why he's been bunking with his brother since Christmas, when the Dark Lord nearly killed her as punishment for getting, you know, in that way. It made her so much less useful for him, for all of us, and he's furious. But I think she did it on purpose, to get out of having to do any of the real work. She wants to kill Potter, or to kill the Granger girl, since the Dark Lord says he needs to be the one to kill Potter, and I think she thinks if she's out of commission until it comes to that she won't risk getting injured, killed, or caught. Honestly, though, Juliet, I wouldn't be surprised if the baby isn't even her husband's. That could be partly why he's angry. I've tried to talk about it with him but he's so closed-off as far as she's concerned. Or maybe he's afraid… after what they did to Endora. No one even suspected it was murder! No one except me."

"Is that so?" asked Narcissa, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity. Euphemia always was a gossip, but Narcissa had no idea she was also a bit of a conspiracy theorist.

"I'm only telling you this, dear girl, because you are in more grave danger for your position than I ever could be. Bellatrix Lestrange couldn't care less about her husband, especially now that she's gotten what she wanted from him, but Narcissa? She'll do anything to hold onto Lucius, to keep being a Malfoy, to keep up on her pedestal. You're too young to know this, but they used to have such lavish parties here, always so they could show off to the rest of wizarding upper-crust society. I tried to be friendly with Narcissa, we all did, all of us Slytherin girls who came up around the same time, but she was always standoffish, too good for us, a real bitch. Matter of fact, I heard she was snobby even as a child. That's why she had no friends at Hogwarts."

"Really?" asked Narcissa. "Snobby? And here _I_ heard she had no friends at Hogwarts because she was a shy, abused girl with a speech impediment, an overbearing boyfriend, and under-developed social skills."

"No," said Euphemia. "I don't know who told you that, but it doesn't sound like Narcissa at all."

Narcissa glanced at the clock again. She was seriously running out of time. As enlightening as this little chat was, she had to go.

"Thank you, Mrs. Rowle," she said, clutching Euphemia's hand as if truly grateful. "I appreciate this, I truly do, but I cannot keep him waiting any longer. Lucius is big on punctuality."

"Of course, darling. Just wanted to warn you. And please, call me Euphemia. You're one of us now. Have a lovely weekend."

"Oh, I will," said Narcissa, glad the woman hadn't realized her voice wasn't quite right (and proud of herself for actually getting it pretty close!). "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Narcissa made it to the apparition point in time to disapparate while still looking like Juliet, but she transformed back into herself immediately upon arriving in Hogsmeade. Thankfully she'd chosen to appear behind the bookshop and there was no one around. She only had five minutes to make it to the Shrieking Shack if she was going to arrive by eight.

As she speed-walked, she thought about all Euphemia had just said. Mostly, she wondered whether anyone else thought she and her imprisoned sister had somehow managed to murder Endora Selwyn, but she was also reeling from the news that Euphemia was seeing Rodolphus, that Rodolphus hadn't told her he wasn't the baby's father (maybe he was? Maybe Bella was the one lying?) and from the realization that the other women in their circle a decade ago hadn't liked her because she was snobby, not because she was awkward. She supposed she could live with that. Being snobby didn't seem like the worse thing. She kind of liked it. Popular girls were snobby. She'd always wanted to be popular. Bellatrix was popular, in a way. The boys panted after her while the girls loathed her because the boys were panting over her. Everyone knew her name. And Andromeda was popular in her sixth and seventh years, when she joined the Quidditch team and proved herself a more than capable Keeper, leading Sytherin to the cup twice in a row. But Narcissa had never had a single friend, not really.

Except Severus.

She was a few minutes late to the Shrieking Shack and found him standing outside in the dark, leaning against a tree trunk.

"I thought you'd forgotten."

"I couldn't escape. Euphemia thought I was Juliet and wouldn't stop talking."

"What?"

"Nevermind." She moved to kiss him hello, but he stopped her.

"Not out here. We'll go inside, say hello, and apparate from there. Students had to be back at school for seven but there are still plenty of witches and wizards milling about."

He led the way into the Shrieking Shack and closed the door behind them. She undid her coat, adjusted her clothes, and smiled at him.

"I've missed you. It's nice to see you without that snake around."

"Do you mean the Dark Lord, your husband, Juliet, or your sister? You'll have to be more specific when speaking of snakes in our circle."

"I meant Nagini, the literal snake," said Narcissa. "But I should've said it's nice to see you without anyone around."

"It's good to see you sober," he replied. "Have you been drinking much in the last week?"

"I'm trying not to," she answered, which was mostly true. "Where are we going?"

"To dinner." He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her waist under her coat. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm insatiable," she whispered in response just before his lips met hers. She parted hers first and he deepened their kiss, wanting to taste her, to consume her. She brought one hand up to his cheek, wrapped the other arm around his shoulders, and pressed her upper body against his, needing him.

"Damn," he murmured between kisses, moving his lips from hers to her cheek to her jaw and back to her mouth. He hadn't told Dumbledore where he was going tonight, unwilling to listen to the old man pontificate about 'more love in the world' and all that nonsense, but he could hear the man's voice in his head as he kissed Narcissa: "It _is_ possible."

They were just starting to get _too_ heated – she was pushing his coat off his shoulders as his hand snaked up the back of her blouse and camisole, touching bare skin – when a sneeze made them both freeze. He backed away from her, finger to his lips, and she nodded, though she did reach back under her coat to fix her shirt. He walked softly to the closet in the corner, grabbed hold of the handle, and pulled.

Out tumbled two students, who promptly scrambled to their feet.

"Professor Snape!" said the boy, dusting off the knees of his trousers. The girl was adjusting her skirt. "It's not what it looks like!"

"We were… lost!" explained the girl. "I mean, no, not lost. We heard a noise and hid in here. Yes, that's it."

"And while you were hiding, your coats fell off and your clothes rearranged themselves?" asked Severus, in his most no-nonsense Professor voice, which made even Narcissa feel like she was in trouble. She kind of liked it.

"W-what?" stammered the girl. "What do you mean?"

"Your shirt is on backward," said Narcissa. "And inside out. There's the tag, see?"

The girl's face went beet red. She covered the tag with her hands, as if clutching her heart. The boy, on the other hand, looked over Narcissa with suspicion.

"Hey, I know you. You're Draco's mum, Mrs. Malfoy. What are you doing here… with Snape?"

Narcissa and Severus exchanged a glance. Before he or the students could react, Narcissa pulled out her wand, waved it in front of the eyes of both students, and said, "Obliviate!"

"Narcissa!" Severus scolded. "You can't just go around Obliviating students!"

"They're fine." She stepped into the closet, pulling the door shut. "Knock when you've sent them on their way."

Blinking and looking both lost and confused, the couple, rubbed their eyes and shook their heads. They were Sixth years Snape formerly taught in his Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Jak Harper and Violette Gnattingly.

"You two should be at school," said Severus still in full teacher mode. "What are you doing in the Shrieking Shack?"

"I… don't know," said Violette, sounding genuine.

"Detention for both of you, next Saturday. With Filch."

"But that's Quidditch!" said Jak, suddenly coming to his senses. "I'm the Seeker for Sytherin, Professor! We're playing Ravenclaw!"

"I'm aware of your role on the team, Harper. I'm certain they'll be sorry to miss you, just as you will be sorry to have missed curfew. Back to the school now, both of you. I have to continue skulking around in the cold seeking others like you who feel above the rules."

"We're sorry, Professor," said Violette, grabbing Jak's hand. Severus wondered whether he should point out to her what Narcissa had, about her shirt, but instead he pointed to the sofa, where there coats had been discarded.

"Forgetting something?"

Jak grabbed both coats, Violette took his hand again, and the pair rushed off toward the castle. Severus watched them from the doorway until he was certain they wouldn't return, then used Revelio to ensure he and Narcissa were the only two still in the shack. They were. He went to the door.

"You can come out of the closet now, Narcissa."

"No thanks," she said, pulling him into it by the front of his coat. "I'm not into women. Get it?"

"I like that you ask me whether I 'get it' after you manage a pun. It's endearing."

"Bella does that," admitted Narcissa. "I picked it up from her."

"It's less endearing now," he said, but he kissed her lightly on the lips. "You shouldn't have told me."

"You said you like it," said Narcissa. "Too late to take it back. And while we're discussing things we like, I love that tone you use to address naughty students. Perhaps if I misbehave later you can use it on me…"

"Dirty girl," he murmured, just before pressing his lips to hers. Her arms made their way around his waist, drawing him closer, as his hands went to her arse. They continued kissing for a couple of minutes, but Severus pulled away before Narcissa was ready to be done.

"We have a reservation," he explained. "Eight-thirty. We should go. I'll side-along apparate you?"

"Alright," she said, keeping her arms around him. She closed her eyes and a second later they were traveling together thanks to the art of apparition. When she opened them again, they were in an alleyway. The first thing she did was wipe the lipstick off his lips. The second thing was reapply it to hers. Then she asked him to lead the way. She slipped her hand into his, glad the late February night was warm enough not to warrant gloves.

"Are we in London?" she asked. He shook his head. "No, we're actually not far from where I grew up. There's a French place… here we are."

It was dimly lit, with small, round tables, each with a candle and single white flower in a frosted vase in the center, and an 'over thirty but under sixty' Muggle crowd.

"Bonjour!" said the hostess pleasantly. "You 'ave a reservation?"

"Yes," said Severus. "Under Prince."

"Oui, Monsieur! Zhis way, s'il vous plait!"

"Prince?" whispered Narcissa as they followed the hostess to their table.

"My mother's maiden name. Less conspicuous in the Muggle world than Snape."

Though she believed this, something in his expression told her there was more to it, which she'd be asking about later.

They ordered red wine (best to pair with red meat), but with an appetizer of Foie Gras, enjoyed the unpronouncable beef special, then shared a lovely mousse for dessert. Conversation came easily during dinner, though they had to keep their voices down, in part because the restaurant was relatively quiet save for music playing softly (in French, naturally) in the background.

"Lucius is in Paris this weekend," Narcissa said as they were finishing dessert. "Did you know?"

"I did not," said Severus. "We had lunch yesterday, but he didn't mention his plans except to say he would be away until late Sunday afternoon and possibly unable to respond should the Dark Lord summon us in the interim."

"Juliet came by while you were at lunch." Quickly and quietly, she relayed the conversation.

"She's pregnant?" whispered Severus. "Are you certain?"

"She says she is, and he's making her get rid of it. I assume they're going to St. Gabriel's instead of St. Mungos to avoid being seen by anyone we know."

"I'm sorry," said Severus. "Are you terribly upset by the news?"

"That's the funny thing. I'm not. Mostly, I'm confused. I don't see why he's still married to me."

"Perhaps he loves you."

"He doesn't love me," she said dismissively, waving the thought away as if it were a pesky fly.

"He loves you," said Severus. "He told me so. Yesterday. So I asked him why he treats you the way he does."

"What did he say?"

"He said I wouldn't understand."

"And what did you say?"

"I agreed with him. No matter his explanation, I can't imagine I'd understand."

Narcissa reached across the table and took his hand. "Hypothetically speaking, Severus… if you… if you loved me… would you cheat on me with… if a girl like Juliet came along. Younger, prettier…"

"She's not prettier."

"Younger then. Curvier. And better at… things. If you loved me, but she made herself available to you… would you…?"

"No," he said. He brought her hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on her palm. "That's why I told him that I don't understand."

"Let's go." Narcissa motioned for the waiter. "Where can we go to be alone together? Your place on Spinner's End? You said we're nearby."

"We are." The waiter approached. Severus handed him Muggle money to cover the bill. "But we're not going straight there. We have plans at 10:15."

"It's after ten now."

"Then we should go."

Narcissa stood. Severus helped her with her coat, then put on his own. They made their way out of the restaurant.

"We can walk there."

"Where's there?"

"You'll see."

It wasn't long before they were standing in front of the theatre that had a marquee similar to that of the theatre where they saw the play on New Year's Eve, but this one listed many different shows and show times all in a line.

"It's called a cinema," Severus explained. "A movie theatre. On alternating Saturday nights at 8:15 and 10:15 they show classic films instead of new ones. Tonight's 10:15 is Witness for the Prosecution. It's based on another of Agatha Christie's works."

"Lovely!" said Narcissa. Severus walked up to the ticket counter, purchased their tickets, then returned to take her arm and lead her inside. There were others milling about, mostly couples around their age, but a few were older, elderly even, and a group of girls in matching Cokeworth Academy Mystery Club shirts looked no older than Draco.

"They call it an academy but it's a girls' school that covers as many years as Hogwarts but with fewer than fifty students," whispered Severus, nodding toward the girls in their matching shirts. "Lily's sister went there. Can't imagine her as part of a cinema club, though. She was most unpleasant."

"Did Lily like cinemas?"

"She did," he said. "But we never saw anything here together. I didn't have the necessary pocket money in my youth."

"Oh." Narcissa twirled her hair around her finger. "Severus…?"

"Yes?"

Narcissa dropped her voice so low even Severus almost couldn't hear her. "What's a cinema?"

He smiled. "It's where they show movies." Catching her blank expression, he explained further. "It's a form of Muggle entertainment. A bit like watching a play, but on a screen."

"Oh." Narcissa nodded, but in truth she couldn't picture it. Like a play, but on a screen? What kind of screen? Did they stand on the screen? Instead of a stage? But what purpose would that serve? Silly Muggles and their nonsense.

They went in and chose seats in the back to the right, as far sway from the Cokeworth girls as they could get without leaving the room. Thankfully the audience was on the small side so no one sat beside or directly in front of them, leaving them room to talk.

At exactly 10:15, the film started. Narcissa sat up straighter, grabbing Severus' forearm.

"There are Muggles in there?" she asked, horrified. "In that huge box? Can they see us? Is it like a portrait?"

"No!" he chuckled. "Don't panic! They can't see or hear us, like theatre actors could. This is prerecorded."

"It's pre-re-what?"

"It's like taking a picture. They film the movie sort of like how we take pictures, but instead of developing it so they move and interact as they would in person, they… uh… they develop it so we can see exactly what they were doing when the images were taken."

"Are they dead then? The Muggles stuck in there?"

"No! They're actors, like in the theatre. Except… this movie is forty years old, so some of them might be dead now, yes."

"I'm so confused," said Narcissa. "I don't understand how they got in there. And if they're dead, how will they get out?"

"They won't."

"They're trapped forever?" She looked horrified.

"No! I told you, it's like a photograph! Narcissa!" He kissed her temple. "Relax. It's okay. They're not suffering, I promise you. They're actors. Like the ones in the play. Except this… this play was made forty years ago, and they took special moving pictures with sound so we can watch it today, all these years later. Relax," he said again. "Enjoy it."

"Okay," she said, but she did not loosen her grip on his arm. With a chuckle, he placed his hand on her knee and quickly caught her up on the bit of plot she'd missed while she was panicking.

Soon, much like at the play, Narcissa forgot to be distracted by the _how_ and became immersed in the story. This time, unlike last, she guessed the ending, and was therefore feeling quite pleased with herself when the lights came up. As they were exiting, she peppered Severus with questions.

"Did you figure out who did it?"

"Do you know how I figured it out?"

"How did they make the Muggles move?"

"If it's not in real time, how do you know when it happens?"

"When you die in a movie do you die in real life?"

"Can Muggles go to a cinema and watch themselves if they were in the movie?"

"Were Muggles all in grayscale back then, or is that simply the way the picture gets developed, like with our photographs?"

"Are there movies without grayscale? Where you see colors like on the posters in the lobby?"

"How many of these have you seen? These cinema movies?"

Severus chuckled and tried to answer every question, until she got to one he couldn't quite explain.

"It looked so real, the murder! How did they do it? How did they make him bleed? How did the knife cut him without killing him?"

"I don't know," said Severus. He secured his arm around her waist, turning her toward him. "I suppose it's magic."

Narcissa's mouth dropped open. "They know about magic?!"

"Narcissa!" He kissed her nose. "I'm teasing you. It's like the play we saw. Special effects. Smoke and mirrors. Fake knives, fake blood. Had I known a simple film would leave you so enchanted I've have taken you to the cinema a year ago."

"I wish you had!" she said, slipping her arms around his waist. "Think of all the every-other-Saturdays we've wasted _not_ seeing classic movies at the theatre! I mean, the cinema!"

"In mid-May theyre showing another based on one of Agatha Christie's works, Dial M for Murder. I'll take you to see it. Before we go, I'll explain to you what a telephone is and how it works, otherwise you'll find the plot terribly confusing, more so than necessary."

"A telephone? I know what that is. They're in Muggle London, little boxes with coin slots and dials kept in booths. They have one of them to get into the Ministry of Magic. Muggles use them to access underground elevators."

"Close," he said, holding her tighter. The night had gotten considerably colder. It felt like snow. "So close, but not quite."

"My sister took Muggle Studies, you know. She told me earlier tonight. She earned an award for high marks on her O.W.L.s. She says she took it only to make Mother mad and as soon as she felt she'd accomplished that much, with a trophy to prove it, she dropped the course."

"That surprises me," said Severus. "And yet… it doesn't."

"What happens now?" Narcissa snuggled even closer to him, burying her face into his coat. "You take me home and have your way with me?"

He laughed. "Fine. It's not far. Shall we walk?"

"I'm tired of walking," she whined, eyes sparkling playfully. "Apparate me."

"Very well."

A moment later they were on the doorstep of his home on Spinner's End. He unlocked the door first with a key, then with his wand, and they stepped inside.

He led her into the living room, where they'd made the Unbreakable Vow a year and a half earlier, and with a swish of his wand a fire crackled in the floo. He removed her coat first, then his own, before putting his arms around her and leaning in for a kiss – which she halted.

"I do believe you owe me a bit of groveling, sir," she said. "Remember?"

"How could I forget?" He knelt on the ground at her feet. "Please forgive me for cutting off contact with you. It was a grave error that shall never be repeated."

"Is that all?"

He placed his hand on the back of her ankle and slid it up her calf. "Let me make it up to you."

"You're not great at groveling," she said. She knelt down too, facing him. "It's okay, I forgive you."

"You forgive me for hurting you?"

"No. I forgive you for being a terrible groveler." Now she leaned forward to kiss him, but he pulled away.

"Don't you owe me an apology too, woman?"

"What for?"

"For scaring me half to death. For making me think that you'd offed yourself. For worrying me so badly I had to rush out of Hogwarts to find out? For being the reason I didn't sleep all that night, first because I was sitting beside your bed and then because I was consumed with guilt and confusion over what had happened with you?"

"I did that?"

"You did that."

"I don't remember it."

"You might have a drinking problem."

"Rubbish!" She paused, biting her lip. "Did you really think I might have… offed myself?"

"The thought crossed my mind."

"Oh, darling, I'm sorry!" Narcissa took his face gently in her hands. "I promise not to scare you like that again."

"Good. I promise not to hurt you like that again."

"Good."

This time, he allowed her to kiss him.

When they parted, he said, "If we're all done groveling, can we get up? My knees hurt. I'm too old for this."

"You're half a decade younger than I am," she said. "And I could stay like this all day. Reckon that means I'm in better shape than you are."

"I could respond in a most vulgar way…" He stood and stroked the back of her head. "But if I say it, I'm afraid you'll refuse to do it."

It took her a second to understand his meaning, and when she did she smacked him in the thigh. He laughed, extending a hand to help her up.

"Are you saying I've got more practice when it comes to being in this position?" she asked, trying to look angry. He laughed again.

"You said it, not I."

"Very mature. Fortunately for you, I have a forgiving nature, so I'll allow you to take me to bed despite your little quip."

"What quip? You said it!"

"Do you want to take me to bed or don't you?"

"Of course I want to." He began unbuttoning her blouse. "I've wanted to go to bed with you for years and now that I have, after each time, instead of being satiated, I only want you all the more."

"Years? How many years?"

He slipped the blouse over her shoulders, letting it fall to the couch behind her.

"I'm not sure. When did we meet?"

"Stop it," she said, swatting at his arm. "Don't tease me."

"Who's teasing? You're a beautiful woman. You've always been. I'd have to have been blind not to notice."

"But you never said anything."

"What was I going to say? 'Hello, wife of my popular, rich, well-respected, and classically attractive friend. I think you're beautiful. Would you like to step out on your perfect husband to have an emotion-free affair with me?' Yes, that would've gone over well."

"That's pretty much what I said to you," she pointed out. "When I asked you to… you know."

"No, what you said to me was, 'I'm pathetic and old and gray-haired and unable to bake a cherry pie, please want me.'"

"Sod off, that is not what I said."

"That's more or less what you said. But you didn't have to."

"Oh no?" She kissed just below his ear, then whispered, "What should I have said?"

"You could have simply said…" He put on a high-pitched voice to imitate her, which more closely resembled that of Squeakers the house elf. "'Severus, darling, you're so dark and brooding and intelligent and mysterious. I want you. Let's have sex.' That's how your voice sounds, by the way."

"I do _not_ sound like that!" She again tried to look angry but failed. "And I don't recall referring to myself as old."

"Didn't you?" He grinned. "It's alright. I like you old." He kissed her and she let him, but she wasn't quite ready to give up the 'fight.'

"If you like old, go back to Septima Vector. Hurry. You don't want to miss her hundredth birthday party!"

He let out a hearty laugh at this. "I enjoy teasing you, Narcissa. It turns your cheeks the same tomato red as your lips and your nails. It's impressive, the way you coordinate the color of your skin to your attire."

"I hate you," she pouted, but she closed her eyes contentedly as his lips moved from her blushing cheeks to her healed throat, where he began to suck.

"You don't hate me," he murmured, his lips against her skin. "You like me. You adore me."

"You think too highly of yourself."

But she moved her hand up under his hair, scratching lightly at the back of his neck, encouraging him to continue.

"You adore me and you want me just as much as you want me to want you," he added.

"Yes, well… I heard you've been wanting me for years, so you… so I… so…" She was too distracted to complete the thought.

"Lusting after you," he said, as his mouth moved to her shoulder. He moved aside the strap of the camisole. "Yes. Since we met. For purely physical reasons."

"And now?" she asked, trying not to get lost in the sensation as his teeth scraped lightly over her skin. "Is it still purely physical? The way you lust after me?"

"I believe you know it is not," he replied. Though he knew her answer, thanks to her drunken admission, he added, "Is it purely physical for you?"

"No, not for some time. I've actually liked you for years. As a person, I mean, not in the romantic sense. I think you've got a kind interior and a stoic exterior, and the way you speak about women is refreshing, considering our social circle… Plus, I've always loved the sound of your voice. There's something very sexy about that low, silky timbre, even when you're annoyed or scolding students or teasing me. And when I chose you to… to _proposition_ you _..._ I… I rather thought… I mean, it was because… I mean, I suppose in part I chose you because… because I'm attracted to you physically and also in part because… I'm… I'm not afraid of you."

"Interesting," he mused. "I believe I terrify at least sixty percent of the students I've taught."

"In that case, I'm glad you've never taught me anything."

"Haven't I?" He raised an eyebrow. "I daresay I've taught you _something_."

"Silly me, that's right! How could I forget? You've taught me about Muggle theatre and cinema and mystery novels. Oh and Occlumency. And how to be better in bed. And what a proper orgasm should feel like. But mostly just the first three things."

His face broke into a grin. "You are an impossible woman, Narcissa Malfoy."

"I believe 'impossible' is precisely what you deserve, Severus Snape."

"Really?" His hands made their way down to her arse, squeezing it and grinding her toward him. "I feel it's far better than I deserve. You're better than I deserve. I've done terrible things, Narcissa. I don't deserve the happiness you've brought me."

"We've all done terrible things, Severus. But you've done wonderful things, too. You've been wonderful for me. You saved the life of my son. You saved the life of my sister. You rushed over to save my life when you thought it was in danger, and beyond that, you've been saving me from myself and the dark thoughts… all of my inner darkness and despair… all of my feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing and worthlessness. And I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn you've saved the Potter boy's life once or twice too because, honestly, I don't see how he's been managing to keep himself alive all these years and considering I know how you felt about his mother… I think you're a good person, Severus. I know you are."

"Narcissa." He released her, stepping back. "You can't think things like that. I haven't… We can't… You are a beginner Occlumens. Thoughts like that, should your sister or the Dark Lord catch them, could get us both killed. The Dark Lord is our Master…"

"He isn't. Fuck Him."

"Narcissa!" Severus' stomach leapt up into his throat. This was dangerous ground. Very dangerous. "It is not only dangerous to speak that way, it's dangerous to feel that way."

"You're no more loyal to Him than I am," she insisted. "Perhaps you were, once, as I was, but surely you can see… He's a monster. And our world is no better off under His control than it was without Him – on the contrary, it's worse. All matters of blood-purity aside, Severus, what good is it to… I mean, He hasn't exactly… Even my sister… Damn it, Severus! Why pretend? When it's just us, just you and I and no one else here, why pretend?"

"Narcissa, you can never be certain of anyone's loyalty. Not mine, hell, not even your own!"

"I know that I wish He'd stayed gone and I don't care if you know it because I trust you. I adore you and I want you and I trust you and I know you're not loyal to Him, not really, not here." She placed her hand on the center of his chest. "Severus, I may not be an accomplished Occlumens, but I don't need Legilimency to see into your heart."

He wanted to tell her she was wrong. To say no. To say stop. To demand she stop saying such things, to stop even thinking such things. He wanted to reiterate how dangerous, potentially deadly, even, it was to be having such thoughts.

But she was tilting her chin down and looking up at him the way she did before he kissed her for the first time and all he could think was that she was right, and after all these years of hiding, it felt good for someone to know… it felt good to share this with her. And so he kissed her, hoping through their physical connection he could concede that she was correct without actually having to say a word, hoping through their kiss he could convey everything he felt but could never, ever say. Her lips parted and his tongue made contact with hers as he just kept kissing her and when they parted, breathless, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the room in which he slept when he stayed at Spinner's End, the former guest room. He set her gently on the bed, still not speaking, and began undressing her as she did to him. He wanted her to know how he felt. But he needed to show her. Not tell her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her camisole discarded on the floor, her bare chest against his as he ran his hands up her skirt, removing her knickers. "I'm sorry I can't keep pretending…"

"Don't pretend with me," he said.

His mouth again found hers as she unbuckled his trousers. She moaned at his touch, moving to stroke him, needing him to fulfill her so badly it hurt.

As they kissed and caressed, his brain was telling him 'No! Stop! This is bad!' but his body was just as desperate for hers as it had always been, ever since the first time, even before the first time, and he could no longer deny that in his heart he wanted her too. And so he undressed her and she him. Once completely divested of her Muggle attire, she shivered, prompting him to retrieve his wand and wave it toward the fireplace, bringing flickering light and much needed warmth into the dreary room.

"Let me look at you," he murmured, as he ran his fingertips down from her shoulder, over her breast, down her side, past her hip, to her upper thigh.

"It's dark enough," she whispered, closing her eyes, concentrating on the way his touch felt and not on wherever his gaze was landing.

"You'll spend the night." It was a request, and yet, it wasn't.

"Yes," she confirmed, scratching her red nails lightly down his back, arching her own back, aware that their relationship had progressed beyond a point she ever would have deemed safe or acceptable and not at all caring in the moment how dangerous that was, despite his warnings. He explored her with his tongue and fingers, she pleasured him with her hands and mouth, and without further discussion, but with many murmured words of affection between kisses, they gave into each other and made love – though neither would call it that yet – then fell asleep together, still intertwined, feeling both satiated and safe.

In the morning, they awoke early, showered (separately), dressed, and ate breakfast together in the kitchen. Over eggs Benedict, she told him about becoming Juliet and being given free advice from Euphemia Rowle. Severus confessed that he, too, had heard rumors that Bellatrix had somehow managed to murder her sister's husband's lover, but didn't put any stock in such ridiculousness. He also assured her that, while he found she carried herself in a way that elevated her above of their contemporaries, he never found her snobby. Afterward, he gave her another Occlumency lesson, but went relatively easy on her, not probing for anything from the dark recesses at the back of her brain, instead employing another exercise in which she pictured a positive but unusually strong memory (this time, Draco's birth) then asked her questions about it, requiring her to lie while clearing and closing her mind. She did well.

They didn't speak again of loyalties or their feelings for each other, though Severus did remind her about the upcoming Agatha Christie mystery to be hitting the cinema in mid-May and Narcissa assured him she meant it when she said she wanted to attend. She left shortly before lunchtime, with flask of Polyjuice potion in her pocket, and headed straight to Muggle London to buy crab meat for Bellatrix before heading home. Meanwhile he apparated to Hogsmeade, hoping no one would have noticed his overnight absence from Hogwarts.

Upon returning to Malfoy Manor, she decided to give the crab meat to Squeakers with instructions to make both soup and salad for Bella with it, then rushed to her room to change out of Muggle clothes. To her unwelcome surprise she found the bedroom already occupied.

Lucius was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, his hair falling across his face, staring at his hands.

His eyes, which had looked tired and old since his Azkaban stint, were now red-rimmed and moist.

"Lucius… are you crying?"

"What?" He looked up blankly, as if he hadn't realized she was in the room.

"Are you crying, darling?"

"No," he said, but he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Where have you been? I asked your sister but she said she couldn't answer because she was in a crabby mood, then she said, 'Get it?' laughed maniacally, and threw me out of her bedroom."

"Oh." Narcissa looked to the ceiling and sighed. "I'm sorry, Love. She's an idiot. I slipped out this morning to buy her crab meat from Muggle London. She's been craving it for a month, but the Dark Lord won't allow her to eat it, and last night I finally got so sick of her whining I said I'd get her some on the sly. Squeakers is in the kitchen preparing it now. I… I wasn't expecting you home yet."

"Sit beside me?" Lucius requested, patting the mattress beside him. She obliged, patting his knee.

"Tell me what's wrong, Lucius."

"Everything is wrong. I've hurt you, Narcissa. I convinced myself long ago that cheating on you was better than mistreating you because that was the lesson my father imparted on me. He said there are things a man needs that he cannot get from his wife, not if he's going to look her in the eye and tell her he loves her, not if he's going to watch her bear his children, and I believed him. I believed him not because I thought he was right, but because I wanted him to be. I didn't want to feel guilty about what I was doing behind your back. I wanted to think of it as doing you a favor. And when you challenged me over it, I became so angry, irrational… and then I hurt you in a different way. And I am sorry. I don't know who I am, since Azkaban, and I'm not sure I can change who I've become. But I need you to know that I love you. I love you, and you alone, Narcissa, and I am sorry."

"Oh, Lucius…" Guilt overwhelmed her, making her stomach physically ache, threatening to rise up from her gut and make her vomit. She didn't feel guilty because she was sleeping around on him – she'd gotten over feeling guilty about that, because, as she had said when she first approached Severus, he'd been cheating on her for years and it wasn't fair. No, what had her feeling guilty was the realization that she'd fallen for someone else and wasn't at all sure of her feelings for her husband, whether she still even had feelings for her husband, whether they extended beyond loving and appreciating him for the son he gave her.

"I tried to tell her I didn't want to see her anymore," Lucius went on, not using Juliet's name, but knowing his wife knew who he meant. "But that's a lie, and I don't want to lie to her – or to you. Do you want a divorce?"

"I… do you…" Her face flushed. The guilty was washed away by cold terror. Without Lucius to protect and provide for her, what would happen? Where would she go? She was not naïve enough to believe she could run to Severus and have him make an honest woman of her. Even if he wanted to, as he'd made clear, such a thing would not be safe. So she'd be destitute. And vulnerable. "Do you want a divorce, Lucius?"

"No," he said. "I told you, I love you. I love you as much now as I did the day I married you, as much now as I did the first time we were together in the Astronomy Tower, as much as I did when I held our son for the first time."

"Stop it," she said, staring down at her own hands. "You're going to make me cry."

"I know I'm not good to you, Narcissa, and I can't pretend I'm going to be better. You deserve better."

"I don't want a divorce," she assured him. "But don't... don't ever hurt me again, alright? Don't... don't hit my hand, or choke me, or..."

"I won't," he assured her. "I love you. Do you believe me?"

"I believe you," she said.

But she couldn't bring herself to say it back.

* * *

 **Review Responses -**

Half-As-Beautiful: I hope he is able to at least partially redeem himself over the rest of the fic! I don't hate Lucius, I just want him kind of out of the way for now. lol

Prettylillpsycho - I am indeed continuing this! Lots more to go! They're not over yet, even though we're only a couple of months from the Final Battle. cries

Trickster32 - I don't think he can deny he feels something for her anymore, but he's not ready to love her yet... or maybe ever. The poor man. :)

hendo2207 - Thanks for being a new reader! And thanks for your good vibes from 'Down Under.'

Shira, Anotherdarkshado, & Vani12 - Thank you for your support and well-wishes. America's a crazy place right now!

Harry Hobbit, Elphaba8387, PopularCats, Guest - Thanks for continuing to read and review!

And thanks to everyone reading, following, favoriting, etc. I appreciate it!

 **-AL**


	31. February 28, 1998

**Chapter Thirty-One – February 28** **th** **, 1998**

As far as Narcissa could tell, Lucius was no longer seeing Juliet, despite his confession that he didn't want to stop. It had been a week since Date Night and Lucius hadn't left the Manor at all. He'd barely left the bedroom. He mostly sat around moping or staring forelornly at the ceiling, which Narcissa found unnerving to say the least.

This meant she'd had no opportunities to see Severus, though she supposed he was busy at Hogwarts anyway. They continued writing to each other, though, on a daily basis, which she did mostly after Lucius was asleep.

When Lucius wasn't asleep, they talked a bit, drank a bit more, and worried about Draco. There didn't seem to be much else to do.

"What are you reading?" Lucius asked. Narcissa was curled up beside him in the bed, book in hand. Both of them were still wearing their day clothes, as it was only quarter past seven.

"It's a Muggle mystery." She showed him the cover. "Bellatrix likes mysteries, so I thought maybe I'd read one, too. It's boring, being cooped up here. This way I can escape, in a sense. Worry about someone else's troubles."

"You can escape?"

"Yes."

"Into Murder is Easy?"

"Yes."

"Is it good?"

"Thus far, yes, very."

"Your sister enjoys reading?"

"She does. She's been doing a lot of it lately."

"Because the Dark Lord won't allow her to go out?"

"Yes."

"Hm." He nodded. "It's about murder?"

"Murder's pretty central to the plot, yes."

"And you said it's a Muggle mystery?"

"Yes." She waited for him to challenger her on this, to tell her not to read it, or to make a condescending or derogatory remark, but none came, so she returned to the book.

This had been the most in-depth conversation they'd had in six days which made her think, despite her husband's assurance that he still loved her, that their marriage might be irrevocably damaged and therefore over. It was a notion she felt simultaneously depressing and liberating.

A pounding on the door made both of them jump. Lucius rose to open it, expecting to see anyone but the one who stood before them.

"Lucius," hissed the cold voice of the Dark Lord, "I need your wife."

"Uh… Narcissa?" called Lucius, though he hadn't needed to. She could hear.

"Is… is something wrong, my Lord?" Narcissa struggled to clear her mind. She hadn't seen Him since last Saturday, when she'd told Severus how much she hated Him, and she was terrified He'd discover her disloyalty. He did not, however, seem interested in probing her mind, at least not at the moment.

"Your sister seems to be in labor."

"How can she be? It's too early! She's due… we approximated April eighth! She's only…" Narcissa quickly did the math in her head. "About 35 weeks along."

"Your sister seems to be in labor," repeated the Dark Lord. "She's calling for you. She is in her bedroom."

"I'm not ready! I don't know… I don't know how to deliver a baby! I… I thought we'd have more time!"

"I will summon Severus," said the Dark Lord, sounding calm, almost bored. Narcissa nodded, but she had her doubts that Severus would know what to do either. They'd never discussed it. Aside from that one time Bella mentioned wanting her sister there when she gave birth, no one had ever talked about it at all. How was such an oversight even possible?

"I'll go to her," said Narcissa, steeling herself, still working to keep her mind clear. "I'll consult with Severus when he arrives."

"Very well," said the Dark Lord. He disapparated.

"I'll wait here," said Lucius unnecessarily.

Narcissa hurried to her sister's room. The door opened to her before she raised her hand to knock.

"Cissy?"

"Yes, Bella, I'm here."

"Cissy…" Bellatrix's voice sounded small, almost scared. "The pain started this morning, but it wasn't so bad. I read a book about pregnancy. It said women can have… can have false labor pains, contractions, like false labor, for a month or two before… before it happens." She was taking slow, deep breaths every few words. "I thought that's what this was. Now… I think I was wrong. I think my water broke. I think these are real contractions. They hurt, but not bad as the Cruciatus. Nothing I can't handle."

"That's good, Bella. You're so calm."

"I _am_ calm," agreed Bella, but her eyes were wide and fearful. "You can help me, can't you, Cissy? You can…" Deep breath. "You can make sure it… comes out… the way it should?" Deep breath. "You'll make sure… that it won't… die? That I won't die?"

"Yes, I promise," said Narcissa. "And Sev– uh, Snape is on his way here. The Dark Lord summoned him. Maybe… maybe he'll know what to do."

Bella's heavy-lidded eyes narrowed.

"The fuck would Snape know about women's health? He's a man. Men don't know. Men are idiots."

"He _might_ know." Narcissa headed toward the bathroom in search of towels, wondering what else she might need.

"Cissy! Don't leave me alone!"

"I'm right here. I won't leave you."

By the time Severus arrived, led to the room by the Dark Lord, Bellatrix was in more pain, the contractions were coming closer together, and she was no longer quite so calm or in control.

"How are you feeling?" he asked upon entering.

"Fuck you, sod off, I hope you die."

Severus turned to face Narcissa and the Dark Lord. "She's her usual pleasant self, I see."

"Bite me!"

Severus smirked. "Tut, tut, Bellatrix. Didn't you mother ever teach you, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all?"

Bellatrix clutched a pillow against her stomach, in so much pain she thought she might explode. She was in no mood for a lecture on manners. "Go to hell, you overgrown bat!"

"Hush, Bella," said the Dark Lord. "Severus is here to help you."

"You can go to hell too, _Master_ ," spat Bellatrix, her last word dripping with disdain. Narcissa's breath caught in her throat. Surely the Dark Lord would punish her sister for this disrespect? But to her surprise, He laughed.

"Let me know when it's over."

Once the Dark Lord had exited, Narcissa closed the door, and Severus attempted to 'examine' Bellatrix by placing a hand on the furthest protruding part of her belly and shrugging.

"I know nothing of childbirth," he confessed. "You'll have to tell me what to do."

"I don't know what to do," said Narcissa. "I had Draco over seventeen years ago and all I really remember is having to push."

"Okay," he said. "Bellatrix, try that."

"What, pushing?"

"No," said Narcissa. "First, let's change you. You can't give birth in that dress. Don't you have a nightshirt or something?"

Bellatrix pointed toward her dresser, which opened on its own.

"I'll help you," said Narcissa. She looked pointedly at Severus, who turned his back and promised not to peek.

"I couldn't care less if you did," said Bellatrix. "You've seen me undressed before."

"I assume you are referring to last December," said Severus slowly, aware that Narcissa's gaze was now drilling into his back, "About which I assure you, I looked at you as little as was humanly possible without neglecting your injuries completely."

"Yeah, right!" She tossed her hair, adding arrogantly, "You know you looked at me and you know you liked it."

"You flatter yourself, Lestrange."

"I'm more attractive on my worst day than any other woman you've ever seen on her best."

"On the contrary, I've seen better in the last week than you've looked ever in your life."

(Narcissa's cheeks went red.)

"In your pathetic fantasies, perhaps." Bellatrix smirked. Fighting with him was a welcome distraction. It almost made the pain bearable. "Precisely how many women have you had, Snape? Two? Three? Or am I being too generous?" She snickered. "Admit it, Sevvy. Even _I've_ got more experience with women than you do."

"That's probably true," he conceded. "But I am a firm believer in quality over quantity."

As they traded barbs, Narcissa, trying her best to ignore them, helped Bellatrix remove her dress and put on the medium-length, plain white nightdress. She interrupted their great debate just as Bellatrix asked Severus whether he still missed his dead Mudblood girlfriend.

"Shut it, both of you! You're worse than children. I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sorry," Severus apologized, but he couldn't help adding, "She started it."

"I hurt, Cissy," whined Bellatrix, forgetting her nearly twenty-year battle with Snape for the moment. "Fix me."

"Okay, well… Okay. Let me think. Bella, can you feel its head, or…?"

"What the hell do you mean can I feel its head?"

"I don't know, Bellatrix!" exclaimed Narcissa, exasperated. "I've never done this before!"

"Isn't it early?" asked Severus. "I thought she was due in April."

"Yes, it's early," Narcissa answered. She allowed Bella to take her hand, which she almost immediately regretted, as a contraction hit.

"Fuck-fuck-shit-fuck!" shouted Bellatrix, mangling her sister's fingers in her grasp.

"Ouch! Let me go!" wailed Narcissa. "I think you broke my fingers!"

"I have an idea," said Severus. "Narcissa, you're good with an Obliviate charm, right?"

"You know I am."

"If I brought someone here who could deliver this baby properly, could you obliviate her afterward? It would need to be a strong enough charm to erase all memory of the labor and delivery, but not strong enough to do permanent harm. Could you do it?"

Narcissa shrugged. "Don't see why not. I never caused Andromeda permanent harm."

"Good. I'll be back," said Severus. "Just… wait. Don't move."

"Oh, sure," snipped Bellatrix. "I'll just wait. Nothing better to do but fucking wait. And what do you mean, 'don't move'? Where in the world would I go? Shit, it's happening again. Cissy, give me your hand!"

"No way!" Narcissa handed Bellatrix the pillow she'd been gripping before. "Squeeze this!"

It was a good forty minutes before Severus returned, a terrified looking Poppy Pomfrey in tow. By this time it was clear something was wrong. Bellatrix was in excruciating pain, so much so she swore she couldn't stand it, surprising considering her high threshold for (and general enjoyment of) pain.

"This is Bellatrix Lestrange?" whispered Madam Pomfrey from the doorway. "I've heard of her..."

"She won't hurt you," Severus assured Poppy, with more confidence than he felt. Madam Pomfrey took two steps closer to the bed, then hesitated.

"Severus speaks the truth," said a high, cold voice from behind them. The school nurse whipped around, feeling her terrified heart turn to ice as she came face to face with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"Lord… You."

"Bellatrix will not hurt you," He assured Madam Pomfrey. "But I may. If you wish to keep yourself alive, keep her alive. If she dies, you die. Understand?"

"Yes… yes, sir," Poppy said, struggling to keep her hands steady. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, released it slowly, and went into mediwitch mode. "Let me examine her. You may go, Severus. And you, too, Lord… Lord Vol… Sir. But her sister should stay." It didn't take long for Madam Pomfrey to determine the problem. "The baby is backward. I'll have to turn him."

"Her," corrected Bellatrix. "I'm certain it's a her."

"Sorry," said Madam Pomfrey. "I'll try to turn her. I'll have to use my hands. This is too precise to use magic, too much can go wrong. And it may be too late – once a woman's water has broken…"

"Fine, whatever," interjected Bellatrix, clutching Narcissa's already-injured hand, involuntary tears squeezing out of her eyes. "Do what you have to."

Before becoming Hogwarts' nurse, Poppy Pomfrey worked as a midwife, thus she had an abundance of baby delivering experience, but it had been a long time and she had never had to do so under such duress – never with You-Know-Who looming over her, never when the one giving birth was best known to the Wizarding World as a sadistic murderer.

"Please," Madam Pomfrey said, glancing back toward Severus Snape and the Dark Lord. "Having you stare at me like that doesn't help. I said you could go. Wait in the hall. I know what I'm doing and I will do my best."

This time they exited.

"Summon me using your Dark Mark only in an emergency," the Dark Lord ordered Severus. "Otherwise do not contact me until the baby is born."

Severus nodded. The Dark Lord disapparated.

Narcissa had assumed when the nurse said she'd try to turn the baby that she would have to reach inside Bellatrix, but instead Poppy Pomfrey performed a quick spell ("to relax the womb") then set down her wand, lifted Bella's nightshirt to rest just under her breasts, and massaged her swollen belly. After several minutes, she cursed, picked up her wand again, and muttered an incantation. Purple light emitted from the tip of the wand.

"It _is_ too late. We have two options, Mrs. Lestrange. I can cut you open and remove the baby that way, or you can attempt to birth the baby while she's breech."

"The fuck does that mean?" asked Bellatrix. "Breech? Backwards? Feet first?"

"Yes."

"Or you'll cut me open?"

"I'll use a knife to make an incision here…" Madam Pomfrey pressed a finger to the spot where she'd begin cutting. "To about here…"

"No!" shouted Bellatrix. "You can't cut me open! You can't! Don't, please, Cissy, don't let her cut me!"

Narcissa kissed the back of her sister's hand. She'd never seen Bella looking so afraid before. "She'll try to deliver the baby breech," Narcissa told Madam Pomfrey. "If you think it can be done."

"I've done it before," said Madam Pomfrey. "But it's been almost thirty years. I started at Hogwarts in '71, after I lost a…" Her voice trailed off. "I'll need a few things. Severus? Severus!"

Severus entered.

"I was hoping you hadn't gone far. Listen carefully, I'll need the following…"

As she listed, he nodded, not looking toward the bed, where Narcissa was comforting her crying sister. He stepped out to do as asked as Madam Pomfrey tried to talk Bellatrix through what would happen.

"I won't help you until you've gotten her legs and body out, then I can reach in and help with the head if necessary. Most of the work you'll do by pushing, just like if it were coming out the proper way. You need to try to remain calm…"

"I _am_ fucking calm!" shouted Bellatrix, who was now crying so hard she was practically hyperventilating.

"Sure you are, dear," said Madam Pomfrey in a sympathetic tone. She looked to Narcissa. "Maybe your sister can help you breathe…"

"Okay, Bella, darling, look at me," said Narcissa, tilting her sister's face so that they were making eye contact. "Breathe in, let it out. Okay? Let's keep doing that. In and out. In and out. That's good, Love."

"I'm calm. I'm breathing," said Bellatrix, voice shaking despite her attempts to regain composure. "You… you lost a what? Madam… Madam Pomfrey? You said you started at Hogwarts after you lost a what? A baby? Don't lie to me. I'm a Legilimens. I'll know if you're lying. What did you lose? Did you lose a baby?"

"A mother," Poppy said softly, positioning Bella's legs so she'd be ready. "The baby survived, but I lost the mother. In 1970."

"Oh," said Bellatrix weakly. "Well that's lovely, isn't it?"

"She was my only loss," Madam Pomfrey assured her. "For what it's worth, she was my only loss in twenty-three years of midwifery."

Finally, Severus returned. This time, Madam Pomfrey asked him to stay, informing him that he was to use the knife she'd brought to cut the umbilical cord once the time came. This made him go pale (paler than usual, anyway) but he agreed to oblige for fear of angering the Dark Lord if he said no. The former midwife set out what she'd need and got into position, widening and readjusting Bella's legs as Severus averted his eyes. Narcissa, despite the pain in her hand, allowed her sister to keep holding it.

It was time to push.

Bellatrix screamed.

Madam Pomfrey prompted her to push a second time.

So she pushed. And again, she screamed.

"You're doing fine," Madam Pomfrey said. "Let's try again. Big push, on three…"

"Kill me!" shouted Bellatrix, on the verge of tears again. "I was wrong, Cissy. It's worse than the Cruciatus. It's worse. It's worse."

"It's alright, Bella. It won't last long," Narcissa assured her. "And it'll be worth it, when you hold your baby, it'll be worth the pain."

"And again… One… two… push!"

"Shit! Shit! Fuck! Ow!" howled Bellatrix.

"We have legs!" announced Poppy. "You're doing well. Let's try another!"

"Another?"

"Yes, you have to keep pushing."

Narcissa mopped sweat off her sister's forehead. She'd never seen Bellatrix like this, so frightened, in so much pain, sweating, shaking. Crying.

It was Bella's next anguished scream that brought the Dark Lord back into the room.

"Why isn't she done yet?" He asked.

Bella's eyes snapped opened.

"You!" she shouted, fixing her gaze on Him. "Fuck you! Why am I _not done yet_? Fuck you, Tom Riddle, that's why!"

"Bella!" gasped Narcissa. She'd never heard what she presumed to be His last name before, nor had she heard anyone address Him by His first, not since that one time when she was a child and overheard Him at the bookshop with her sister.

"I hate you," Bellatrix continued. "This is _your_ fault. I hope you die. I hope Potter fucking kills you."

"Bellatrix!" Narcissa grasped her sister's hand tighter, afraid He would punish Bellatrix for this, despite the situation. To her surprise, the Dark Lord did not react. He simply continued to stand there, staring at Bellatrix, almost as if... worried.

"I need you to push, Mrs. Lestrange," prompted Madam Pomfrey. "On three… One… two…"

But on three, when she failed to push out the body of the baby, Bellatrix pointed her bony finger at the Dark Lord's chest and screamed, "Crucio!"

He did not react to this, either.

"Please, on three…" Madam Pomfrey prompted again. "One… two…"

This time, when Bellatrix pushed, the body of the baby slipped out. Madam Pomfrey warned Bellatrix it was now time for the head, explaining that it may take awhile to happen naturally, which she would not help with unless absolutely necessary, but Bellatrix couldn't comprehend her words over the intolerable pain.

"I'm dying!" Bellatrix screamed. She broke into sobs as all the angry energy seemed to abruptly dissipate. Her eyes closed. She seemed to be growing paler and more feeble by the moment. "I'm dying! I can't push anymore. I can't. I won't. I'm dying."

"Then I'm going to have to make a small incision," said Madam Pomfrey, reaching not for the knife, but for her wand. She murmured an incantation. "Severus, hand me that green tub. Mrs. Lestrange? I have to numb the area before I cut into you."

"No, please, no," begged Bellatrix. "Don't cut me."

"I'm sorry," said Madam Pomfrey. "The baby is stuck. If I don't cut you, Mrs. Lestrange, you'll surely tear, and we don't want to further prolong…"

"Bellatrix," interjected the Dark Lord. "Don't call her Mrs. Lestrange, call her Bellatrix."

"Excuse me," apologized Madam Pomfrey, glancing at Him momentarily out of the corners of her eyes as Severus handed her the green tub. " _Bellatrix_ , I know you don't want me to cut you, but I think it's for the best."

"I'm dying…" whispered Bellatrix, eyes still closed. For a fraction of a second, the Dark Lord's cool expression seemed to indicate concern, followed by a momentary look of compassion, which was caught only by Severus. Then He stalked over to her, grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, forced her into a semi-erect position, and shook her, His face cold again.

"Look at me," He demanded. She opened her eyes. "Push out the head, or she's going to cut you. If she cuts you, you'll take longer to heal. The longer you take to heal, the less useful you are to me. Is that what you want? You want to be useless?"

"I want to not die!"

"Good! Because you are _not_ dying. Now quit the theatrics, you pathetic, melodramatic little bitch."

A twinge of hurt swept over her eyes, followed by a flash of fiery determination. She cocked her head arrogantly and spat out her next words:

"Fuck off, you noseless old troglodyte. I am neither pathetic _nor_ melodramatic!"

"Women have been having babies since the dawn of time!" He snapped in reply. "But it's too difficult for you? You're too weak?"

"Weak? Weak! Ha! I'll show you who's weak! I'm ready, woman. I'll push. Let me push. I'll show you who the fuck is weak."

The Dark Lord nodded, backing a few paces away. That was clearly precisely the response He'd been hoping for.

"Are you certain, Mrs. – er – Bellatrix?"

"Yes!" Bellatrix replied, energized. "Let me push. I'm ready!"

"Oh… okay," said Madam Pomfrey, looking slightly taken aback. "We'll try once more. One… two…"

With the Dark Lord standing beside her bed (a smirk of smug satisfaction on His face) Bellatrix bore down, pushing, as Madam Pomfrey inserted two fingers to try to help guide out the baby's head. It worked. Out the baby slipped, finally, covered in blood and mucus and ooze, eyes crusted shut, still attached to the umbilical cord. Not breathing.

"Cut the cord, Severus," demanded Madam Pomfrey. Looking uncomfortable, Severus took the knife and did as told, still trying his best to look anywhere but at Bellatrix or her fluid-covered baby. Poppy flipped the baby and spanked it, forcing a cough, which was followed by a cry. "There it is! Sometimes it takes breech babies an extra few moments to start breathing. But listen to that wail! Perfectly healthy."

Bellatrix flopped back onto her pillows, exhausted, physically weaker than she'd ever been, save for the hours after being attacked by her lover back in December. "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking toward the Dark Lord. "I'm sorry I said I hate you. I'm sorry I said I hoped Potter would kill you."

"Think nothing of it," He said. "The absurdity of such a statement amused me. Are you also sorry for telling me to fuck off, followed by calling me a noseless old troglodyte?"

"No," she answered honestly. "I meant that."

As they spoke, Madam Pomfrey wrapped the baby in a white towel, then used Aquamenti to wet a facecloth to wipe away the crust and blood from its face. She handed the baby to Narcissa to better clean up using the washbasin she'd had Severus place atop the dresser.

"You'll still have to deliver the placenta," said Madam Pomfrey. "Could be a few minutes, could be a half hour. But you've done well. You have a beautiful baby."

"What is it?" asked Bellatrix.

"It's a girl, Bella," said Narcissa. She brought the now-clean baby to her sister, who cradled it lovingly in her arms and looked to the Dark Lord.

"It's a girl, my Lord," Bella said, gazing lovingly down at the newborn. "I knew it was going to be a girl."

"Are you happy?" He asked.

She nodded.

Then she burst into tears.

"What's wrong?" asked Narcissa. "Why are you crying?"

"Cissy… my Lord… I… I… I…"

"What?" asked the Dark Lord, who appeared to have been made more uncomfortable by her tears than by watching her give birth. "What is it?"

"I don't know a damn thing about being a mother!"

"Oh!" Narcissa crawled into the bed beside her sister, kissed her forehead, and placed one hand under the baby. "You'll be a wonderful mother! I'll help you."

"The baby is undersized," said Madam Pomfrey. "She must be a little early?"

"Five weeks," confirmed Bellatrix through her tears. "Is she alright?"

"She looks healthy. After I'm done here, I'll examine her properly."

"She's the tiniest baby I've ever seen!" exclaimed Bellatrix, which made Narcissa laugh, since Bella had never seen a newborn before. The new mother's eyes were fixed on her baby's precious face, her button nose, her pouty lips, her blemish-free skin, her ten teeny fingers. "Isn't she tiny, Cissy?"

"She is tiny," agreed Narcissa. "Smaller than Draco was."

"But she's perfect. She looks perfect, doesn't she, Cissy?"

"She's perfect," agreed Narcissa, though she honestly didn't think the baby was as perfect as Draco.

"I can't stop staring at her," whispered Bellatrix. She was not the only one. The Dark Lord's gaze was also transfixed on Bellatrix and her baby on the bed, though His expression was completely unreadable. Severus, on the other hand, was staring at Narcissa – and his expression, should anyone have been paying attention to him, would have made it quite clear that he and Narcissa were more to each other than casual acquaintances, or even friends, as, for the first time in his life, he found himself entertaining the notion of becoming a father… what it would be like to get her pregnant, to watch her grow, to cut the cord during the delivery of his own child…

He quickly tried to push these dangerous thoughts out of his mind.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Madam Pomfrey dealt with the placenta and afterbirth, applied essence of dittany to the slight vaginal tearing that occurred with the passing of the baby's head, cleaned up the bed and the supplies, and tried not to panic over wondering what would happen to her once the examination of the newborn was complete. Then she had Bellatrix set the baby down on the bed, opened the towel and, using her wand, began to check for any signs of distress, before measuring the newborn's length and weight.

"She'll lose a little weight over the next few days, but gain it back within two weeks. If she doesn't gain it back, or loses a significant amount, you should have her checked by a qualified Mediwitch. How do you plan to feed her?"

"The natural way," answered Bellatrix as Narcissa said, "Formula."

"The natural way?" asked Narcissa. "You're going to breastfeed her?"

"Of course," replied Bellatrix. "When should I start?"

"As soon as you're able," said Madam Pomfrey. " _Now_ , if you so desire. Breast is best, as they say. The sooner, the better."

"Am I done here?" asked Severus, turning toward the Dark Lord, feeling no desire to see Bellatrix breastfeed the baby.

"Yes," the Dark Lord confirmed. "You all are. Leave us. I need to speak privately with Bellatrix."

Madam Pomfrey wrapped the newborn girl in the blanket Narcissa had just handed to her. It was pastel yellow with egg-yolk yellow ducks printed on it. It had been Draco's. Then Madam Pomfrey handed the baby back to Bellatrix. Bellatrix, now silent, but with tears still making their way down her cheeks, kissed her daughter's head.

"Wait!" said the Dark Lord. "What of this?" He gestured toward Madam Pomfrey, but was looking at Severus.

"Are you going to kill me?" Poppy asked, also looking at Severus.

"No," he said. "Narcissa will Obliviate you then I'll return you to Hogwarts."

She nodded, but he did not need Legilimency to know she didn't believe him. Narcissa kissed Bellatrix's temple, brushed her finger gently against the baby's cheek, and assured her sister she'd be awake for awhile in case Bella should need anything. She left, followed by Madam Pomfrey. Severus was already in the hall. Without speaking, they made their way outside to the apparition point.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," said Narcissa, shaking the nurse's hand. "I can't tell you how grateful we are. I'm sorry to have to Obliviate you."

"I understand, Mrs. Malfoy," said Poppy. She glanced at Severus. "I'm just grateful to be leaving here alive, to be perfectly candid."

"You won't remember any of this," said Narcissa. "The last several hours will be blank. You'll probably feel as if you're forgetting something and you'll also feel tired. Severus, once you have her back at the school, you should tell her to go to bed and get some sleep. It's late, and she'll feel normal again in the morning."

"Of course," he agreed.

Narcissa raised her wand and waved it in front of Poppy's face. "Obliviate."

The Hogwarts' nurse's eyes glazed over.

"I'll see you," said Severus. He kissed Narcissa quickly on the lips, before Madam Pomfrey was 'with it' enough to register her surroundings. He took the nurse by the hands and together, they disapparated.

Alone, Narcissa headed back into Malfoy Manor, but she did not go straight for her room. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep. She went to the kitchen instead, pulled out her special (secret) cookbook, found a recipe for banana bread, and prepared to bake.

An hour or so later, with the bread cooling on the counter and a mug of tea in front of her, Narcissa sat so lost in thought she didn't hear the creaking as the kitchen door opened.

"You're still awake," said Severus, surprising her.

"You came back," she said. "Why?"

"I needed you." He strode over to her, lifting her up from her seat by the upper arms, which caused the chair to tip backward, clamoring to the floor, and kissed her soundly. She moaned into his mouth and he took the opportunity to deepen their kiss, sliding his hands up to her shoulders and down to her wrists, then, unexpectedly, he grabbed and lifted her, just as he'd done in the alleyway on New Year's Eve. She wrapped her legs around his waist and continued kissing him hungrily as he moved them until her back was against the wall.

"I have to have you," he growled. "Tonight. Now. I need to make you mine."

"Merlin's beard," she murmured, holding tightly onto him with her arms and legs, not wanting him put her down. "What's come over you?"

"I left Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary and headed toward my office, but all I could think about was wanting you, wishing I'd apparated you with me, wishing I could take you to my chambers, to my bed…" His lips found hers again and they kissed for several long moments before he continued. "I want to have you, to claim you. I want to be near you, on top of you, inside you. I want you to have my baby…"

"You're talking crazy!" she admonished, but she couldn't help loving every word.

"I feel crazy. I know it's not sane or safe and I know in reality it would be stupid and wrong, but fuck, Narcissa, I want what they have, what you've had… I want that with you. I want everything with you."

He sat her on the counter and began sliding his hands up her long skirt, prepared to take her right there, but she halted his attempt.

"Not here, Love. Anyone could catch us. My husband is home. The Rowles. The Dark Lord. Wormtail. Not here."

"Then where?"

"The attic?"

"Fine," he said. He kissed her again, set her down, and took her hand. "The attic."

They didn't meet anyone in the halls and were in the attic in no time. As soon as Narcissa charmed the door locked, they were all over each other.

"Tell me again," she said as he hurriedly removed her dress. "Tell me again how you want me. Tell me again that you want a baby with me. Tell me again that I'm yours."

Several floors below them, Lucius slept soundly, unaware that his niece had been born, and unaware that his wife was in the attic with his best friend.

Down the hall from the master bedroom, the Dark Lord held both Bellatrix and his newborn daughter, watching over them as they slept.

All over the Manor, the grandfather and cuckoo clocks struck midnight.

As Severus, caught up in the moment and forgetting himself, only vaguely aware that he would regret it later, again told Narcissa she was his.


	32. March 1, 1998

**A/N:** Every step closer to the Final Battle makes me sad, thus this little unplanned chapter is all lemons and fluff. Depending upon how you feel about that, please accept my "I'm sorry" or "You're welcome." Lol – **AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Two – March 1st, 1998**

"Yes," moaned Severus, on his back on the attic floor, his hands on either of Narcissa's thighs under her white slip as she grinded on top of him. "Like that… yes…"

"Tell me again," she said. "Tell me you want me. Tell me I'm yours. I love hearing it."

He reached his hand up to the back of her neck, pulled her down to him, and kissed her.

"You're mine," he said when they parted, his lips still a breath away from hers, still holding the back of her neck. "Only mine. Not his. I don't want you with him. It kills me, making… being with you, and then knowing you're going back to bed… with him… I fucking hate it. I want you to be mine alone."

"You've never seemed this… possessive before," she said, brushing her breasts against his chest, rocking her hips. His other hand slid out from under her slip and up her back. He began fumbling with her bra, which, like the slip, was white and lace-trimmed.

"This is pretty. How do I get it off?"

"It clasps in the front." She sat up, still moving on him, and brought his hands to the center of her breasts. "See, you push the sides of the clasp together, and then… Oh, never mind." She swatted his hands away. "I'll just do it."

Once it was unclasped, he removed her bra, tossing it to the side, and squeezed her breasts under his hands, bringing her back down, taking one in his mouth, groaning. When she sat up again, instinctively she covered her chest with one hand and forearm, placing her free hand on the center of his chest, still riding him.

"Don't," said Severus, trying to pull her arm down. "Don't hide yourself. Let me see you. Lean back."

"Lean back?"

"Trust me. Put your hands down…" He guided them behind her, to rest on the tops of his thighs. She closed her eyes to avoid seeing him see her. "And lean back, yes, like that. Yes… Now…" His hand found their way under her slip to her hips. "Move… like this… yes…" One hand remained on her hip while he used the thumb of the other to rub her as she rocked on top of him. "Yes… like that… do you like that?"

"Oh… oh… ohhkay…" she said, suddenly unable to put together a cohesive thought. "Okay… it's okay… everything is… okay… oh…"

He laughed. "Relax, Narcissa."

"I'm… relaxed…" Her eyes were still squeezed tightly shut. "Oh, okay. Yes… I'm fine…"

He increased the pressure with his thumb, encouraging her to speed up her movement, which caused in her a building sensation that was at once both uncomfortable and pleasurable.

She shook, crying out his name several times as her orgasm overtook her, leaving her weak and still.

"I love it when you do that," he said, coaxing her back down to him, to kiss her. "I love it when you call my name. But don't stop…" He used his grip on her waist to urge her to keep moving. "Don't stop… I'm almost there…"

"No… Severus… darling…" She sat up again, covering her chest with her left arm and hand while adjusting her slip with the right. "We… should… stop… soon."

"Why?"

She suddenly ceased movement entirely, prompting his hips to buck under her, as his body longed for her to continue.

"Why? Because I know you don't really want a baby with me and I'm all out of the potion, that's why. You can't… finish."

"I'll risk it," he said. In one swift moment, he pulled her down to him and flipped them over, so she was on her back on his cloak, with one leg bent up, his hand on the back of her knee. Slowly, he resumed thrusting, burying his face in her hair, their chests and stomachs flush against each other. As he whispered her name into her ear she was caught between wanting to enjoy this moment for as long as it lasted and the nagging notion that they were on the verge of making a terrible mistake.

"Severus, do you want to marry me?"

Now he was the one who paused. "What?"

"You're not thinking with your brain, Severus," she said, brushing his hair back from his face, her fingertips lingering on his temple. "I'm married. If I'm going to get pregnant again, I'm going to do things right, in the right order, not like before."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning before I'd do anything else, I'd have to leave Lucius and get divorced. After that, if you still wanted me, we'd have to date – _not secretly_ – like normal people. While dating, should you… should you fall in love with me, should you… want a future with me, then you'd ask me to marry you. If I said yes, which I would, we'd get married and live together and then, only then, if you wanted to get me pregnant, if that's what you _really_ wanted, _then_ we could risk it. Fair enough?"

"How did you get so damn practical?" he asked, voice low, before kissing her lightly on the lips.

"Years of experience," she replied.

He rolled away from her, onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, breathing heavily, still aroused, but finally coming down from the high that had hit when he saw her in the kitchen.

"What now?" he asked.

She turned onto her side, placed her hand on his bare chest, and slowly ran her fingernails ever-so-lightly down the length of his torso, all the way to his groin, finally taking his hardness in her hand and beginning to stroke. "I'm sure I can think of something."

Once he was spent and she was exhausted, she cuddled up against his side, her head on his chest, and summoned a blanket to cover them.

"I'm sorry," he said, wrapping her in his arms.

"Don't be sorry. I liked what you were saying, even though I knew you'd regret it later."

"I don't know what came over me."

"I do," she said. "You got carried away for a number of reasons that combined rather violently and all of a sudden, sparked by the events of this evening and the lingering anxiety centered around the fact that we could die any day, together serving to rob your brain of the ability to think clearly."

"My brain isn't thinking clearly enough for me to decipher that sentence."

She smiled. "I'll break it down for you. First, adrenaline. You just helped deliver a baby, a baby that could have died, but it didn't, and you cut the cord, and it was all a miracle because babies and childbirth are miraculous, which, whether you realize it or not, affects a person. Then you saw my sister holding her baby and a part of you felt jealous, because as much as you've worked to keep yourself emotionally closed off from the world since… since Lily died… there's a part of you that wants to be typical, a part of you that wants love, and a woman, and a family. There's a part of yourself that you've been denying for seventeen years, or maybe longer, maybe since she got married, maybe even before that, maybe even as a child raised in a loveless home. You feel jealous because it's like others have what you can't, which is silly because you _could_ , if you could get out of your own damn head, but that's another issue."

He opened his mouth to comment on this but she pressed on, not giving him the chance.

"You also felt possessive because, as you stated, you don't like that you have to share me, and that's why you said you wanted to claim me, to make me yours, because you want to assert your dominance not only over me, but over Lucius, like two stags fighting over a doe in the woods."

"Interesting," he said, wondering if it were possible for her to know that his Patronus was a doe, and assuring himself she couldn't possible suspect why.

"Additionally, I'm the closest to a romantic relationship you've ever had and as much as you like it, it scares you. You need for your need for _me_ to be carnal and lust-driven, not emotional and emotion-based, because the way you think you might _actually_ feel about me scares you, so your heart and mind took that feeling you can't stand to feel and turned it into what you are comfortable with – desiring sex, and ownership… there's something very primal about getting a woman pregnant, Severus, very _animalistic,_ like the stags and doe, and also it's a bit narcissistic, baby-making. It's all about wanting to see what you can create with a person to whom you are attracted, the thrill of knowing what you've made together – plus, it's sort of a trophy, I think, for men; there's a _triumphantness_ there, in knowing that you've done something so miraculous as… as… planting your seed, so to speak."

He scoffed. She ignored, pressing on.

"But most of all, I think you felt afraid."

Now he cocked an eyebrow, looking somewhat insulted by this.

"Oh, I don't think you're a coward, Severus, please don't misunderstand, but I do think you worry not only because you believe it would be unsafe for anyone to find out about us, but because you don't know how _you_ should feel about us and when you try to figure it out your own brain blocks you – like putting up a brick wall or a blue ocean – and it replaces those dangerous thoughts with much safer ones, like the need to fuck me in the kitchen rather than telling me you care about me."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is so. Oh, and you're also feeling guilty, you feel guilty every time you're with me, every time you entertain the notion of something _more_ , because you feel like you're cheating on Lily, just I used to feel guilty because I'm cheating on Lucius."

Severus stared straight up at the wooden beams of the ceiling above, unable to look at her, afraid she would see how close she was on so many counts. "Are you a Legilimens now?"

She half-smiled. "No, Love, none of this is learnt through magic; it's all women's intuition. While you men look at the world on a more primitive level, worrying about the tangible things and how to triumph over them, we women spend our time dissecting literally everything, from what was done to what was said to what we think the subtext was behind whatever was done or said, which means _I've_ had plenty of time over the last two years to work through this in my head, while for you, it's all sort of crashed together tonight and came out as a mess. Well? How was that? Spot on?"

"Until the end," he said, feeling more exposed than ever before, more so, even, than when Harry Potter invaded his mind during an Occlumency lesson. "I do feel guilty, but that's not why. I can't tell you why."

"You will, someday."

"Perhaps I will," he conceded. "And perhaps you'll let me look at you in the light when you're naked… someday?" He pinched the top of the blanket and began moving it down to her waist. Even though the attic was nearly as dark as his dungeon chambers had been, she grabbed it and pulled it back up, even higher than it was before, over her shoulder.

"Don't count on it."

"I should go, soon. I need to return to Hogwarts well before sunrise."

"Hand me your wand."

He reached for it, discarded along with his attire, and handed it to her. "Why?"

She tapped the cloak under them, transfiguring it into a thin soft-but-firm mattress, then handed it back to him.

"I'm too damn old to spend this much time on the floor."

"You're not old, Narcissa."

"I'm two weeks away from forty-three, Severus. I'm practically ancient. I'm surprised you still want to fuck me in my geriatric years."

"Really? You're only half as old as Septima Vector and she's still perfectly fuckable."

Narcissa snickered, cuddling closer to him. Severus responded by brushing her hair to the side to gently scratch her back, between her shoulder blades. They were silent for several minutes, until a question she'd been longing to ask for well over a year finally made its way from her brain to her mouth to his ear.

"Severus, tell me honestly… how many women have you been with? I know it's more than Bella guessed, but…"

"You want me to count?"

"You know about how many men I've been with."

He cocked an eyebrow. "All both of us?"

"Tell me!"

"Alright… let me think…" He ran down the list in his mind, going backward. Narcissa, of course. Plus that one time with Hortensia Higgins, and his longtime on-off fling with Septima Vector, and the brief 'relationship' with Juliet Rosier… those two mistakes with Bellatrix in May 1980 and January 1996… plus one confusing summer in the early '90s with Bridget O'Malley, one of Voldemort's former followers, whom Severus broke things off with when she admitted to developing an emotional attachment to him… and, beginning a month after losing his virginity, he spent a few weeks in the company Moira Rickets, a half-blood who pledged allegiance to the Dark Lord during the First War (and, like Juliet, was using him as a stepping stone, which she regretted the moment He fell, a fact he didn't mind since he was only using her for sex).

"Seven," he answered finally. "Just seven. Including you."

"But not Lily?"

"No." He closed his eyes, seeing her smile, her red hair, her green eyes. "No, not Lily."

"But you wanted her in that way? Physically?"

"I wanted her in every way," he said quietly.

"Do you think…" She reached up from under the blanket to twirl her hair. "Do you think you'll love her forever?"

He did not respond. His eyes were still closed, but he kept his arm around her waist.

"Severus? Do you think you'll love Lily forever?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean… do you… or can you… do you still want me?"

He opened his eyes and re-positioned himself so that they were facing each other.

"How can you ask me that, Narcissa? It should be obvious that I still want you. Tonight… I… I'm grateful to you for stopping me because I realize now that I was being irrational, but I… I meant every word."

"Every word?" She brushed his hair back behind his ear, not breaking eye contact.

"Almost every word."

"Which word did you not mean?"

"I shouldn't have said I wanted to claim you." He tilted her chin up, pressed his lips to hers, and then relaxed onto his back, pulling her with him. She hitched up her slip and flung one leg across his, resting her head on his chest.

"Why not? I liked that. It's like when you call me 'My Narcissa.'"

"No, because when I call you mine, it's mutual, because the implication is that you're mine and I'm yours, whereas to _claim_ something is to own it. Owning is what one does with possessions, not people. My father used to tell my mother he owned her, like she was property. I shouldn't have said it."

"I don't mind." She wondered if he felt the fluttering of butterflies that extended from her belly up into her chest when he said, "You're mine and I'm yours."

"Maybe you don't mind, but I do. Women are not meant to be controlled by men. No person should ever own another."

"How did you get so enlightened?" She brought her right palm up to rest on his left shoulder as he kissed the top of her head.

"I've had a lot of years to spend alone thinking about the ways I don't wish to be."

"If you don't believe one should own another, you must not be a fan of house elves. Or is this a humans-only thing?"

"Funny you should ask. I'd never questioned the work of house elves – I've never owned one myself, too poor, but the ones at Hogwarts always seemed reasonably content – then a couple of years back Potter's friend, the Granger girl, she started this organization to protect house elf rights, and I have to admit, having come across one of her leaflets, she made some good points. Caused quite a stir, too. I remember Minerva in the staff room, lamenting to Fillius Flitwick about how the house elves were refusing to clean Gryffindor Tower because Granger hid clothes everywhere in an attempt to free them. Minerva wanted to put a stop to it, and Fillius thought she should, but Albus didn't want to quash the girl's attempts because they were noble and made with good intentions."

"So McGonagall turned the other way? What about you? Did you have an opinion?"

"I have to be honest, Granger made me question their place at Hogwarts, and whether the school board of governors should offer to pay them, but Fillius assured me that the house elves found the very idea of receiving payment highly insulting… all except one."

"One little house elf wanted to be free?"

"One little house elf was already free. Yours, I believe. Dobby."

"Dobby?! He's at Hogwarts? He _is_ ours! Or, he _was_. Potter, that rotten little shite, tricked my husband into giving the stupid elf clothes maybe five, six years ago. That's why we got Squeakers. But Dobby had been in the Malfoy family since Lucius was a child. He was born into it, as was his mother before him and her mother before her." Narcissa snorted, half-annoyed, half-amused. "So… Potter freed our house elf, Dumbledore gave him a job, and the Granger girl inadvertently saw to it that he alone kept up Gryffindor tower because she was trying unsuccessfully to free the others?"

"That's about the scope of it, yes."

"She sounds… interesting."

"She is. Also, insufferable. A veritable know-it-all. Always with her hand up in class, an answer for everything. She writes tiny so her potions essays could fit more information than required by the assigned amount of parchment. Drove me batty. As if I want to spend all bloody night correcting over-long essays written in minuscule print. She's borderline obnoxious. Nose constantly buried in a book. High sense of morality. Too smart and practical for her own good."

Narcissa stifled a giggle. "So… she's just like you?"

"She is _not_ like me."

"She sounds like you."

"She sounds nothing like me."

Narcissa couldn't hold back her laughter any longer. "She sounds perfect for you! You should break it off with me and marry her, Severus. I can see it now. Two brilliant, insufferable Mudbloods saving the world together, one sad little house elf at a time. I mean, when you're not busy reading."

"You're horrible. For one, I detest that word, _Mudblood_ , which I believe you know. For another, she's a child."

"So give it a couple of years, then marry her."

"That's disgusting."

"She's cute, right? Draco thinks she's attractive, I can tell. He once said it's a shame she's Muggle born. I've only seen her once. Didn't get the appeal myself. But perhaps you're into bushy-haired know-it-alls."

He sneered. "You think Lucius is too old for your cousin because she's barely older than your niece, but you're trying to pass me off on a girl who's no older than your son."

"Aren't you the one constantly reminding me that my son is of age?" She giggled again and reached up to stroke his cheek. "I like teasing you, Severus Snape. Look, your face has gone as red as you're always making mine. Your complexion matches my nails. How very well-coordinated we are!"

"I do not blush," he said in a dry, stoic tone, his eyebrows drawn tightly together. This made her giggle harder.

"You most certainly do! Don't worry, Love. I'm sure your teenage Muggle-born girlfriend will find it endearing. Tell me, what does she call this anti-house elf movement?"

"If I recall correctly, she dubbed it SPEW, which is what I may do if you insist upon continuing this line of conversation."

"Oh, darling, don't be sore at me," she said with a falsely apologetic tone. "It's okay. It's okay that you want to run off and start a house elf liberation movement with an obnoxious, flat-chested, bushy-haired –"

"You are a horrible person," Severus interjected. "But she's not flat-chested, for your edification. I don't believe she has to pad her bra as you do yours."

Narcissa stopped laughing as her face flushed. She pushed herself up onto her elbows in an attempt to make eye contact, which he avoided.

"You've looked at her?" She smacked his chest. "You lecherous pervert. She's a little girl!"

"Don't you think 'lecherous pervert' is a bit redundant?" He tried to hide his smirk. (In truth, he hadn't looked at Miss Granger – not like that – and had no idea whether she padded her bra, or if she needed to, nor did he care to know, but he felt his statement was worth this reaction from Narcissa.) "Plus, didn't you _just_ tell me she's of age? I mean, I suppose, as you suggested, I _could_ wait a couple of years before laying _claim_ to her… let her get some life _experience_ first… though I've so enjoyed training _you_ to do as I like, what _fun_ it could be to start over with a _vir_ –"

"If you say what I assume you're going to say, I'll stupefy you, then go get that awful snake the Dark Lord has hanging about all the time and let her make a meal of you right here on my floor."

"When you say, 'that awful snake' always 'hanging about' the Dark Lord, are you referring to Nagini or your sister?"

"I meant Nagini and you know it. Don't think I won't do it, either. That Hat ultimately chose Slytherin over Hufflepuff, remember."

Severus cracked up at this. "Such a double standard, my beautiful Narcissa. You can tease me but I can't tease you?"

"It's not the same!"

"It absolutely _is_ the same." He moved into a seated position, positioning her so that she was straddling him, facing each other. He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her bare back, letting the blanket pool at their waists, and flashed her a cheeky grin. "Don't start what you can't finish."

"I'll show you what I can't finish," she said, grinding closer to him, her lips nearly touching his, as one hand made its way down to stroke him.

"That doesn't seem like much of a threat…" he murmured in reply.

"It doesn't yet…" She kissed him, pulling away when he started to kiss her back. She took his hand in her free one, pressed her lips to it, then placed it on her breast, grinding against him again, her other hand still stroking. "But when all you want is to _finish_ and I deny you…"

"You're wicked," he whispered.

This time when he kissed her she did not pull away. On the contrary, moments later it was she who guided him into her and began to thrust, both still sitting up, as she sucked at a spot on his neck and he moaned into her hair.

Once they were satiated together for the second time in as many hours, the couple again held each other under the blanket on the transfigured mattress.

"What's going on at Hogwarts? Have you seen much of my son? How is he?"

"Better than he was last year, but not as he was before. He still has his group of friends, though. Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini…"

"I'm glad he has friends. I wish I did, at his age. Or at any age, really. What about you? Did you have friends at Hogwarts? Aside from… her."

"I did, though with few exceptions my friendships with fellow Slytherins were more surface-level than what I'd had with Lily. I was good friends with Evan Rosier, and we went around with many of the others who later became Death Eaters. We all joined up together. Lucius recruited us, actually, which is how I became friends with him."

"I thought Endora Selwyn was my friend. She was also coming over, having tea, chatting with me in the parlor. I relied on her rather heavily after Bella went to Azkaban, especially since Andromeda was long gone. After Draco was born I told Endora I worried Lucius was losing interest in me, that he would end up looking for affection in the arms of someone else. I don't know if he was already seeing her at that point or if it was the encouragement she needed to pursue him, but once I learned of their… affair… I stopped trying to make friends."

"That must have been painful," he said, hugging her closer.

"It was. Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you think Euphemia Rowle is so certain my sister and I had something to do with Endora's death? Do you think she's just a grieving friend who can't accept…?"

"I think Thorfinn gave her a bit of information few even inside the Ministry are privy to."

"Which would be?"

"When Bellatrix was arrested, her wand was tested. Priori Incantato, to see what spells she had last performed. The last two, which were documented in their records, were Obliviate and the Cruciatus. Which makes sense with what we know about what happened at the Longbottom's house. It is believed after torturing the parents, she wiped the memory of the boy."

"Okay."

"Later, during her trial, the wand was tested again, presented as evidence. This time, it showed another spell. The Imperius Curse. It was suspected the Imperius Curse was used to force Endora Selwyn to commit suicide. More likely, the low-level Magical Law Enforcement officer who tested it the first time made an error, since her wand was locked up in the interim – as was she."

"Merlin's beard," whispered Narcissa, covering her mouth. "Mother."

"What?"

"They were supposed to lock up Bella's wand and destroy it after the trial, but Mother convinced them – she used the money from Stepfather's vault, what he left to us – and she convinced them to let her hold onto the wand, claiming it was rightfully hers because she paid for it. Do you think she might have had it between Bella's arrest and trial, too? After she died, I took it, and that's how Bella got it back after her breakout. But if… if they're right… if Endora was forced to… to do what she did… you don't suppose, my mother…?"

"I didn't know your mother," said Severus. "I met her only twice and that was in passing. Do you reckon it was something she'd have been capable of?"

"If she thought she was protecting me?" Narcissa thought about Draco. Would she murder someone protect Draco? Absolutely. It was the one situation in which she could picture herself a killer. But Mother? Mother never protected them from Stepfather, and what he did was far worse than what Endora Selwyn tried to do. "No," Narcissa said after a long pause. "I don't believe it. I could see Bellatrix doing it, but not Mother. And Bella couldn't possibly have done it. She was locked away. So no."

"Then worry about it no more," said Severus. He kissed her. "I never put much stock in those rumors anyway. Far-fetched and nonsensical. I remember Endora well - I attended those parties you used to throw, remember. Being rejected by Lucius destroyed her. She was heartbroken and overdramatic and she killed herself as much to make him suffer as to escape her own suffering. I never once questioned whether she'd actually killed herself."

"She truly loved my husband?"

"She did."

"But he didn't love her?"

"Not at all. He liked her. He said he could do things with her that…"

"That what?"

"That he wouldn't do with you."

"He told you that?"

"He was my closest friend, remember? And I believe I was his. Still am, I suppose."

"Even so, who discusses his sex life with friends? Is that something men generally do?"

"You're kidding. Don't you women discuss such things? Haven't you and your sister ever talked about…?"

"Not really. I have a feeling I'm better off not knowing about her sex life."

"Yes, well, we all are."

Narcissa snickered. "You don't like her much, do you?"

"How could you tell?"

"She doesn't like you either."

"I'm shocked."

They were quiet for a few minutes, her listening to his heartbeat, him just content to be holding her, both lost in their own thoughts.

Outside it started to hail and the sound echoed around the attic as the icy drops bounced off the roof and beat against the windows.

"Tell me something I don't know about you," said Narcissa, as her fingertips traced loopy figure-eights on Severus' chest and stomach. "Tell me something I'd never guess."

"Something you'd never guess, eh? Alright. My favorite color is red."

"It isn't! Red? I love red! How long have you preferred red?"

"I've always loved red," said Severus. "My Muggle grandmother liked to bake and when she did she always wore her white apron with red apples embroidered all over. She made it herself. Red was her favorite color, too. But then I went to Hogwarts and Gryffindors wore scarlet, thus ruining red. I've since made sure to stick to black, green, and, on occasion, gray."

"Damn Gryffindors. I've always loved red, too. Especially darker reds and blood red, which is why I paint my nails red and wear red lipstick. When I was a little girl my very favorite dress was cherry red. It flared out and I loved to twirl in front of the mirror whilst wearing it. It was pretty and made me feel pretty. Stepfather bought it for me after the first time…" her voice trailed off. "It's sad, isn't it? That I was so easily placated by gifts? Lucius has always done the same. After he does something terrible, he buys me something lovely. I'd estimate that my jewelry collection is worth more than my sister Andromeda's house twice-over."

"Tell me about when Draco was a baby." Severus abruptly changed the subject, surprising Narcissa, but not unpleasantly. "What was it like the day he was born?"

"My labor was a lot easier than Bella's. I was at St. Mungos. I had to push four times and that was it. He didn't merely cry, he screamed. They didn't even have to spank him first like Bella's baby. I insisted upon holding him before they cleaned him up which everyone except me seemed to find rather disgusting, but I thought he was beautiful even covered in blood and… whatever else."

"I'm sure he was," said Severus genuinely, making her smile. "He was beautiful when I first saw him. What was it, two, three weeks later? Lucius couldn't wait to show him off."

"His head had rounded out by then, too. I stared at him constantly. Partially because I was terrified he'd just up and stop breathing, but mostly because I thought he was the most perfect creation the world had ever known."

"Something he still seems to believe despite any possible evidence to the contrary," said Severus. Narcissa pouted, even though she knew he didn't mean anything by it. "You know it's true, Narcissa. As insecure as you are, he's the opposite. Not that there's anything wrong in having an inflated ego – though last year's situation seemed to take him down a peg or two."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure to those who aren't his mother he has his flaws like every teenager, but I happen to think he's still as perfect and precious as he was the day he was born. I worked very hard with him, too, once I… once I was myself again. I didn't want him to have a speech impediment like I did, so right from babyhood I was careful to pronounce everything carefully when I spoke to him, to point out this and that and identify everything from furniture to spells to food. I taught him to tie his little shoelaces when he was only three. Andromeda didn't learn to do that until she was eight. He was polite and respectful to those deserving of respect and we bought him a junior racing broom at five so he could get himself off the ground from an early age. I know his friends' mothers complained that I spoilt him, even Lucius thought he was too pampered at times, but I'd do it all the exact same way again."

"You've said before that you weren't a good mother. I find that hard to believe. I remember Lucius telling me that you were having a difficult time, but…"

"More than difficult." Her gray eyes narrowed with the memory. "I was a mess. Before… before the talking and shoe-tying, when he was an infant, it was… different. I was different. Draco cried constantly. I cried constantly. I don't really want to talk about that part."

"We could do an Occlumency lesson," he began. "I could try to see…"

"No. Please, Severus. Maybe another night, but not tonight. I'm too content with you tonight and remembering my… my shortcomings… will only serve to make me sad. I don't want to be sad."

"Fair enough."

"I'll tell you about being pregnant though, if you want to hear."

She closed her eyes so he closed his. With her ear to his chest she could hear the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat. He breathed in slowly, inhaling the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo.

"I do want to hear. Tell me."

"I was under a lot of pressure and nervous nearly the entire time, because of what happened with the first pregnancy. Most importantly, I wanted a healthy baby, but almost as much as that, I wanted a boy. I had to have a boy. It told everyone all I wanted was a boy and it was true… mostly. I needed to give the Malfoys an heir – his parents made that abundantly clear. But at the same time, whenever I closed my eyes and pictured my future child, I saw a little girl. With long hair I could sit and plait while telling her stories, like about Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump, and I'd teach her how to be a lady, and how to charm her hair to hold a curl, and all the things Mother taught me, and I'd take her everywhere, we'd go shopping every weekend for hats and gloves and sparkly earrings and, when she got older, she could tell me about boys, though I also wanted her to be smarter and more academic than I was, and I pictured her with friends, many friends… Plus, until she got too old for it, I imagined I'd specially commission miniature versions of all my favorite dresses so we could match!"

Severus chuckled. "I remember attending parties at Malfoy Manor when Draco was small. His bowties were always the same color and pattern as your dresses."

She beamed, pleased that he remembered. "That was as close as Lucius would let me get to making him resemble me. I didn't cut his hair for the first six years. It went almost down to his waist. I used to comb it back into a low ponytail. He was such a pretty boy."

"I can still picture him, following you everywhere."

"Only when he was very small. By the time he got to primary school he wanted nothing but to be exactly like his father. Well, you know. You're his godfather; you've watched him grow up. He idolizes Lucius. Sometimes… sometimes I like that about him, that he admires his father, but other times… I don't want him to be _exactly_ like his father, Severus. I don't want my son to think… to think money and blood purity and status and looking down on others are the only important things in this world. I don't want him to view women like… like they're disposable. I want him to have a wife he genuinely respects, not one he sleeps around on. Those are all ways in which Lucius is exactly like his father, Abraxas, and I don't like it."

"What do you want him to think is more important?"

"I don't know. I suppose image and status are among the things _I've_ always felt were most important, so I have no moral high ground had those parties not to enjoy spending time with friends, but to show off. And I liked it. I liked feeling like a trophy, even though Bella always teased me about it. But now… I don't know. I like other things now. I like to cook. I liked that show at the play theatre. I liked the movie cinema. I like your Muggle mystery novels. I want Draco to see the value in those, and in friendship and creativity and love and loyalty and… oh, damn it, I truly do sound like a Hufflepuff now, don't I?"

"A bit," said Severus. "But I like that about you."

She smiled. "Know what I like about you?"

"My charming disposition?"

"Right," she said sarcastically. Catching his hurt expression, she added, "Wait, were you serious?"

"You don't find me charming?" He continued to feign being hurt, but now she could see through the facade. She kissed his cheek.

"You're perfectly charming. But that's not what I was going to say. I like the way you look at me."

He raised his eyebrows and started to speak but she placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

"Not naked! I know what you're thinking. I still don't like to be looked at… like that. I meant the way you look at me, like… when you're looking… you know… at me."

"Glad you clarified," said Severus. "Otherwise I'd have had no idea what you meant."

"Hush, you. I meant…" Narcissa sighed. "I like your eyes."

"You like my eyes?"

"They're so dark, with all that depth, and they seem cold at first, as if you're closed off, the way you look when you're using Legilimency on me, but then getting to know you, I can see a change in… when you… when you laugh or make me laugh, they crinkle at the corners and when you're, you know, wanting me, your pupils dilate, so I can see… what you're thinking… and when you're teasing me, the blackness twinkles like –"

"My eyes do not twinkle."

"They do," she insisted. "You don't see the twinkling because it isn't as if you flirt with yourself in front of a mirror, but they do, they twinkle, and it's lovely. And I like it."

"Are they twinkling now?" he asked, rolling her onto her back and positioning himself over her, his left hand going to her hip, his fingertips making their way under the top of her slip.

"No," she answered quietly. "Now your pupils are dilated again."

"Whatever could that mean?" His lips connected with her shoulder. His teeth scraped lightly at her skin, making her breath hitch in her throat, then he kissed her again.

"It means you want me."

"I like that you can tell what I'm thinking without Legilimency," said Severus, finally removing her slip, leaving her completely undressed and, though they were still under the blanket, feeling exposed, but not to the extent that she wanted him to stop. He left a trail of kisses along her skin, as he'd done so many times before, until he reached her most intimate area. His hands massaged her inner thighs, urging her to relax.

"I like this, too," said Narcissa, as he began to tease her with his tongue. "I like your eyes, and I like this. And I like the way you touch me. And I like that you listen to me. I like that you respect me. And I like that you introduce me to Muggle entertainment. And I like… I like… oh, Severus, yes… yes… I like that… and I like…"

But what else she liked she couldn't readily recall, not now that she was distracted by the fact that he was doing what she _really_ liked.

When she was nearly there, she found her voice again. Sort of. "Okay… yes… I… I like… I love… I love the way you make me feel. Not just… not just physically, but… I… oh, okay, yes, yes… there… okay… I love… I love…"

Just as had happened before, she was unable to complete the sentence, as pleasure crashed over her in waves, robbing her of coherent thoughts and speech.

"I know what you love," Severus said as he moved himself back up, positioning his body over hers. He flipped her over onto her stomach. She could feel his arousal against the back of her thigh as his hand crept down her stomach to between her legs. He kissed the back of her shoulder. "But tell me again."

By the time they were through, it was nearly morning.

They used his wand to fix the transfigured mattress and remove all evidence of their evening together, then dressed and hurried downstairs. The sun was not up yet, and it appeared that none of the occupants of Malfoy Manor were either. Narcissa pulled Severus into the kitchen before saying goodbye, insisting that he take half the banana bread with him.

"I've made this before and am told it's excellent. Possibly my best work. I put chocolate chips in it." She took his wand and waved it. An over-sized white cloth napkin removed itself from a drawer and wrapped around half of the just-cut bread, tying in a knot at the top, then the package hovered over toward him. He took it and smiled.

"I'll think of you when I eat it," he said, with a twinkling in his eyes that made her blush.

"What are you doing up?" asked a voice from the doorway.

Lucius.

Narcissa jumped.

Severus, for his part, remained completely cool, as if being caught in the kitchen with his lover by said lover's husband at four in the morning was perfectly normal. Narcissa noticed that his eyes clouded over once more, to reveal no emotions, the way they did during Legilimency lessons or in the presence of the Dark Lord.

"You're still here, Severus?"

"While you were sleeping comfortably," said Severus in his usual dry tone, "Your wife and I helped deliver a baby. As thanks, she's giving me half of this banana bread, which I'm told is excellent."

"Oh." Lucius made his way to the counter, picked up the knife, and sliced off a bit of banana bread for himself. "Yes, I've had it before and it's quite good. So, you two delivered the baby? How did it go? What is it? Does it have a name?"

"Yes we did, it was breech but went alright, and it's a girl," answered Narcissa. "No name yet."

"Very well then," said Lucius. He popped the piece of bread into his mouth. "Mmm."

"I should be going," said Severus. He extended a hand to Lucius and they shook. "Hogwarts can't run itself."

"See you soon, I hope. We need to catch up. We've hardly seen each other since you became Headmaster."

"As you've told me," said Severus. "I do apologize. I've been terribly busy. But I'll make time to come by again soon."

"Great," said Lucius genuinely, clearly not suspecting a thing, despite the pink spots dotting Narcissa's pale cheeks. He put an arm around his wife's waist, pulling her into a hug. "Come to bed, darling. We can still get in a few good hours sleep."

Narcissa glanced over her husband's shoulder at Severus in the doorway.

"You must be exhausted," Lucius added.

She nodded.

"You have no idea."


	33. March 9, 1998

**Chapter Thirty-Three – March 9** **th** **, 1998**

"Cissy?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"Do you think I'm doing alright? I mean, as a mother. Am I… am I okay?"

"Bella!" Narcissa set her book down on the table beside her chair and moved to join her sister on the couch in the parlor. Asleep in Bellatrix's arms was her sleeping nine day old daughter, who, as Madam Pomfrey warned, had lost a little weight since birth but was slowly gaining it back. "You don't have to ask me that fifteen-hundred times per day. I always answer the same. Yes, you're doing alright. Better than alright. You're a natural. Look at her! She's healthy, clean, well-fed, safe, and loved, and that's all she needs at nine days old, just as it was all she needed at eight days old, and at five days old, and at two days old, and it's all she'll need at ten and twelve and twenty-five days old. You need to stop fretting over how you're doing."

"Do you think it was a mistake to let everyone believe she died in childbirth?"

"No," said Narcissa. "Crazy as it seems, I agree with the Dark Lord. It's better if no one knows about her. Safer. There are a great many people who'd like to see you suffer, Bella. And they're not all on the other side."

"I've already had to Obliviate Wormtail four times and the Rowles once each. Next time, you should do it. I don't have the finesse to properly Obliviate people. Thorfinn wandered around dazed for twelve straight hours after I had to do it to him."

"I know," said Narcissa. She took the newborn from Bellatrix and sniffed her head. She smelled like baby powder and soap. "We had this conversation yesterday."

"We did? All the days run together. I haven't slept."

"I can tell. You look exhausted."

"She sleeps during the day, not at night. She's nocturnal. Like an owl."

"One thing I learned when Draco was a baby, before Lucius brought in the Squib girl to help, was that it's best to sleep when baby is sleeping. Why don't you sleep now? I'll take her to the nursery and hold her until she gets fussy, and you can sleep, and I'll wake you when she needs to eat."

"I can't," whined Bella, rubbing her tired eyes, suddenly looking very much like a little girl and not at all like a woman about to turn forty-seven in under a month's time. "She might need me!"

"She will be fine for a couple of hours. Go to bed. Come along. I'll tuck you in."

Narcissa checked to be sure that the hall was clear before leading Bellatrix out and back to her own bedroom. As promised, she tucked her in (one-handed, using her wand, since she was still holding the baby). Narcissa opened her mouth to again promise that the baby would be fine for a couple of hours, but before she could get a single syllable out, Bellatrix was sound asleep, snoring.

Smiling, Narcissa slipped out, again checking that no one was in the hall, and hurried to the nursery down the hall from the bedroom, adjacent to the room she shared with Lucius until his parents' deaths meant he'd inherited the master bedroom. Draco had slept in the nursery until he moved into his current room, down the hall. Both the nursery and the adjacent room had stood empty during all the years since, even as it became less and less likely that another child would follow, and now Lucius' boyhood bedroom was the only unoccupied one in Malfoy Manor, though Wormtail lately had been asking to move into it, ever since his room was given to Rodolphus (in exchange for temporary use to his wand) and Wormtail was thusly relegated to a cot in the basement, where he could best keep an eye on the prisoners in the dungeon.

Narcissa sat in the rocker, cradling Bella's baby, humming softly as she thought back on days like this with Draco. Despite her difficulties, she'd always loved being a mother. She'd loved holding him while he slept, and smelling his hair, and holding his teeny feet between her thumb and forefinger, rubbing lotion on his little heels, even changing his tiny diapers, which Lucius had tried to do only once (he'd ignored Narcissa's advice about keeping the baby's little bits covered and subsequently been peed on while reaching for a new nappy).

Narcissa closed her eyes, picturing her son in his infancy. He'd stayed in that room, sleeping in the crib that was now opposite Bella's bed in her room, until he was three – which was one year too long, according to his father and grandparents, who all thought his mother babied him – which, Lucius supposed, was better than what she could have done to him…

Narcissa had tried not to let the fact that Lucius insisted upon hiring the Squib girl make her feel like a failure as a mother, but it wasn't easy – not with her own mother and mother-in-law regularly remnding her that they were perfectly capable of feeding and caring for their babies on their own.

Soon Narcissa was half-asleep herself, lost in another, entirely unrelated memory.

 _"_ _Mother was wonderful when we were little," Andromeda said, passing Narcissa a biscuit. They were at Hogwarts, lounging in chairs in the Slytherin common room, both missing Bella, who'd finished her seventh year the June before. "I wish you could remember her. And Father. Father was enamored with her. He was always dancing her around the kitchen, or pulling her into his lap in the sitting room and kissing her cheek, making her blush. I can't believe he's been gone over ten years now. I wish he'd never died. I wish he was still here. Imagine how different it all could have been, Cissy? He never would have… would have done things to us. He used to take us to get ice cream at Florean Fortesque's."_

 _"_ _I remember that," said Narcissa softly. "That's all I remember."_

 _"_ _He used to call Bella 'Gamma Orionis,' because that's the other name for her star in the Orion constellation. And my name comes from its own constellation, named for a myth, and he'd tell me the story of Andromeda from the myth and act it out. I'd play Andromeda and he'd have Bella play this sea monster called Cetus who goes to ruin the city Andromeda's parents' ruled as punishment for thinking I was too beautiful – I mean, for thinking that Andromeda was too beautiful – and then Father'd pretend to be Perseus, the hero, and Bella would try to fight him off and he'd use Levicorpus to make her levitate around the room and she'd laugh… and then Mother would say something like, 'If that child breaks a bone,_ you're _taking her to St. Mungos!' and he'd put her back down and it was fun, Bella. He wasn't like Sirius' and Regulus' father. He smiled and laughed all the time and he and Mother adored each other. I don't know why… after he died… of all people… I don't know why she chose to marry Stepfather."_

 _"_ _Money," said Narcissa with a shrug. "Bella says she married Stepfather for money. She says Mother when Father died Mother discovered they didn't have as much money as she'd thought. Or they used to, I guess, but spent too much and saved too little, and she couldn't work, and it was only a matter of time before it ran out. That's what Bella says."_

 _"_ _Yes, well." The laughter and light that had been in Andromeda's eyes only moments before were gone. "I don't care if it means Mother has to get off her arse and get a job; I'm glad he was murdered last year."_

 _"_ _Don't say that, Meda! That's terrible!"_

 _"_ _Not even close to as terrible as all he did to us."_

 _"_ _Andromeda, let's not talk about that. Tell me more about Father. I want to remember him."_

 _"_ _You can't," Andromeda said matter-of-factly. "Stepfather made sure of that."_

 _"_ _I don't understand." Narcissa began twirling her waist-length blonde hair, a nervous habit she and Andromeda shared._

 _"_ _You're too young," said Andromeda. "You're the baby. That's all."_

 _"_ _I'm not a baby! I'm fourteen years old! I have a boyfriend…"_

 _"_ _A boyfriend who's too old for you."_

 _"_ _He's not! I told him… I told him, if he wants to, I'll do it. You know… it-it. In a few days. In the Astronomy tower. Because I am not a baby."_

 _"_ _You're not a baby but you call it 'it-it' because you can't say it?" Andromeda rolled her eyes. Narcissa glared at her._

 _"_ _You're just jealous because no boy has ever liked you."_

 _"_ _Good!" Andromeda jutted her chin out arrogantly. "I don't want boys liking me! Boys are gross. There's not a single one in this school who's good enough for me."_

Of course, it wasn't long before Andromeda found a boy at that school she deemed good enough for her – the Muggle-born, Ted Tonks. And though Narcissa didn't tattle to Mother about him, she often wondered later if she should have, if telling their Mother right away could have stopped Andromeda from falling in love with him and being cast out forever.

In Narcissa's arms, Bella's baby stirred, but did not wake. Not even when the cuckoo clock chimed, signaling that it was now 2pm. Narcissa closed her eyes again. Only three more hours and she could drink. She'd made a promise to Severus that she would cut back on her alcohol consumption, but since she still felt she needed it to sleep, she fulfilled this agreement by not drinking before dinner time (though, often enough, she skipped the dinner part and drank instead).

"When Draco was as small as you – well technically, he was never this small, as he was twice your size at birth – but when he was a week or so old, like you, he could only fall asleep in my arms. If his father or one of his grandmothers held him when he got tired, he would cry. He would cry until I took him, then he'd fall right back to sleep. And I couldn't set him down. We kept his bassinet in the bedroom so he'd be close, but if I put him in it, even after he was asleep, he'd awaken and cry. I held him all the time for those first few weeks. I'd fall asleep holding him, which your uncle Lucius hated because he thought I'd drop him, but I never did. My Mother – your grandmother – she thought I held him too much. She said I'd spoil him and he'd never learn to sleep alone, but she was wrong. He sleeps alone just fine now, and I miss when I used to be able to hold him. I can't hold him anymore, you see, because he's seventeen and technically a grown man, even though he'll always be _my_ baby. I think mothers should be permitted to hold their babies as much as they'd like for as long as they'd like because they only get so much time together when their babies are babies, then they grow up in the blink of an eye and it's over, no more baby. So I understand why your mum has you attached to her all the time, but I hope you don't mind being with your auntie Narcissa for awhile so your mummy can sleep. No, you don't mind, do you? You're a good girl. I always wanted a girl. If I hadn't… if I'd kept my… a couple of years ago, if I hadn't… well, anyway, sometimes I wonder if I'd made a different choice, if I could be holding my own little girl right now. She'd be about a year old. You could've been playmates, gone to Hogwarts together. Damn it."

Narcissa wiped the tears from her eyes with the hand not holding the baby and glanced up at the clock. Quarter after 2. Still too early to drink.

A soft knock at the door made her flinch. "Yes?" she called, expecting it to be her sister, but instead Lucius poked his head in the room.

"I've been looking for you. What are you doing in here?"

Narcissa stared at him for several seconds, glanced down at the baby, and dragged her gaze back at him. "I'm carving a pumpkin. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Funny." He rolled his eyes. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

"The baby is asleep. And I was thinking."

"About what?"

"Dinner."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Dinner? Or what you plan to drink with dinner?"

"What are you insinuating?"

"You barely eat dinner these days. It's just something to set on the table beside your wine."

"Fine, you caught me, Lucius. I was thinking about wine."

"I don't mean to lecture you, dear…" He stepped all the way into the room, closing the door behind him, enveloping them in even more darkness. "Lumos," he said, flicking the wand he must have borrowed from one of the Lestrange brothers. He pulled a chair over toward the rocker and settled across from her, where the crib used to stand. "But maybe we should take a little break from the wine?"

"We all have our vices, Lucius," said Narcissa, shifting the baby to rest on her other arm. "I have a nightly glass of wine, you have sex with girls young enough to be our daughter."

"I haven't cheated on you in over two weeks."

"Oh, well, what a relief," said Narcissa sarcastically. "Tell you what, then, Love? After I've gotten in a good twenty-five of alcoholism, I'll take a two week sabbatical to even us out. Fair?"

"I haven't been cheating on you for twenty-five years, Narcissa. And please don't change the subject. I'm worried about you. I think you're drinking too much. Every night, an entire bottle?"

"It's not always an entire bottle," she said, avoiding his eye. "And it's not every night."

"It's every night, and unless Wormtail is pilfering Merlot to share with the prisoners, I can tell by the amount that has disappeared from my personal stores that you've been consuming more than your fair share."

She bit her lip. As much as she'd hate to admit it, he was right. She'd been drinking more and more often since Draco was given his task a year and a half ago but starting that week before Valentine's Day, when Severus cut her off and she was feeling more neglected by Lucius than ever, she had upped her regular consumption to a worry-worthy amount, and despite her promise to Severus about cutting back, which she was working hard to keep, she couldn't deny that she was currently unable to fathom an entire day without it.

"Narcissa." Lucius placed his hand gently on her knee, giving it a slight squeeze. "I know our life is… it's not… I know things are bad right now, but it won't always be this way. The Dark Lord…" Lucius lowered his voice. "The Dark Lord won't be using our home for His headquarters forever. This war won't last forever. My affair, your alcoholism… these are temporary problems."

"Are they, Lucius? Your affair didn't start after the war. Well, this one did, but I mean, your penchant for having affairs didn't suddenly come about as a way to relieve war-time stress. You were cheating on me before you went to Azkaban, weren't you?"

He kept one hand on her knee, pushing his long white-blond hair back from his face with the other, and let out a slow sigh.

"I was, yes."

"With who?"

"With whom," he corrected.

"You're lucky I'm holding this damn baby," she said calmly. "Because that's the sort of thing that makes me want to hex you into oblivion."

"I can't help it," he said. He flicked the light off and returned his wand to his pocket. "If you'd speak properly…"

"Fuck off."

"Narcissa!"

"With whom, Lucius? I had so many guesses but no one stood out… I narrowed it down to Hortensia Higgins…"

"She's married to Pyrites now."

"And Armithia Yaxley…"

"She was Endora's sister…"

"And Bellatrix."

"Bellatrix? She'd sooner kill me than let me get her into bed."

"Then who? Whom? Crabbe's wife was pregnant then. Alecto Carrow is hideous. Hazel Whitecrest is old. Euphemia Rowle is… well, she's Euphemia. What about Blaise Zabini's mother? Everyone says she's beautiful."

"She's a black widow. She marries rich men and doesn't cry when they die. I sleep with other women because I want to do things to them I can't do with you, not because I want to leave you, marry someone else, and end up prematurely dead."

"You might end up prematurely dead if you don't tell me. I'm sick of wondering, Lucius. I know about Juliet. I know that started after Severus brought her into our home. I saw the way you looked at her that first time, before you offered to _mentor_ her. But there had to be someone else…"

"You don't know her."

"What's her name?"

"You don't know her."

"What's her bloody name, Lucius?"

"You don't..."

"Tell me or I'm leaving. I'll leave tonight and never return. Tell me her name."

"Nym... Nymphadora."

Narcissa went white, which Lucius could see even in the darkness of the nusery.

"My niece? My niece, Nymphadora? Andromeda's daughter? Married to the werewolf? _That_ Nympahdora?"

"She was using me for information, if it matters," said Lucius. "The Dark Lord worried Severus wasn't being as… forthcoming… as he could be, plus with him stuck at Hogwarts, under the watchful eyes of Dumbledore and Umbridge… the Dark Lord wanted that prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, and Severus was no help. So I was using her for information and she was using me."

"Couldn't you have traded information while talking over tea instead of while panting over each other?" Narcissa held the baby tighter, trying to focus on the newborn's steady breathing instead of the constricted feeling in her chest. Though she no longer felt for her husband what she did before he went to Azkaban, knowing that her niece – her niece! – was the one he'd been screwing before he went away hurt on multiple levels. No wonder Nymphadora had been willing to keep secret Narcissa and Severus' affair! She'd had her own… with her aunt's bloody husband.

"It was less than six months, Narcissa, that's all. Less than six months of meaningless sex and the mutual benefit of trading secrets with permission from both our masters."

"The Dark Lord knew about this?"

"He suggested it. Actually, He suggested it to Severus first."

"I thought He believed Severus was not helpful enough."

"He did. He thought Dumbledore was being more cautious with the information he shared with Severus, but that Nymphadora could supply more, being a trusted member of the Order and an Auror, especially if she thought Severus actually cared for her – she was weak, the Dark Lord thought, in love with a man who didn't love her, which should have made her an easy target. But Severus refused."

"He… refused?"

"Yes. He was tortured pretty terribly for it, too, by your sister, on multiple occasions, but he wouldn't relent. So it fell to me. I made contact with her at the Ministry while doing business with Yaxley, and she shared that with Dumbledore, and I suppose he told her she should… She never seemed to have any romantic interest in me, unlike Juliet. As I said, it was strictly physical and mutually beneficial. She's a Metamorph, so…"

"I don't want to hear about the disturbing things you could do in bed with my Metamorphmagus niece."

"The Dark Lord has long wanted us to recruit her, but she's not interested."

"She's having a baby with her werewolf husband." Narcissa bit her lip, mentally ordering herself not to cry, even more desperate for a drink than she'd been when the clock chimed two. "Lucius… how could you?"

"It was for the cause, my dear. I didn't want to."

"I don't believe that rubbish for a second," said Narcissa. "Severus refused, so… what? You offered? But you didn't want to?"

"Who do you suppose the Dark Lord could have sent instead, Narcissa? Goyle? Macnair? Greyback? It was imperative…"

"Don't. Don't, Lucius. I suppose I should just be glad that neither of the women in my family who you've slept with are my sisters."

"With whom you've slept," he corrected.

"I will kill you," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Correct my grammar one more damn time, Lucius Malfoy…"

"Narcissa! What's gotten into you? Maybe you _should_ drink. You'll be less tense."

"For fuck's sake, Lucius!"

The baby stirred, disturbed by Narcissa's sharp tone. Both Lucius and Narcissa froze for several seconds, staring at her tiny face, hoping she wouldn't begin to wail.

When it seemed safe, they continued their discussion, but in hushed tones.

"I think I want a divorce," Narcissa said. "I can't live like this."

"You don't want a divorce," said Lucius, squeezing her knee again. "As I said already, it won't be this way forever. The Dark Lord will leave. Your sister and the baby will find their own place. The war will end. Everything will settle back to normal and this will seem like nothing more than a bad dream."

"You can't say 'nothing more than a bad dream' to a woman who's spent half her life taking potions to avoid having bad dreams, Lucius. Or don't you remember what it was like before Dreamless Sleep was developed?"

Lucius sat back, leaning the chair precariously on two legs, the way Draco used to as a boy (which always promoted Narcissa to scold, "You'll fall and break your head!").

"I remember," he said. "You'd be shaking, or sobbing… or screaming… I'd have to wake you up…"

"A bad dream might not seem all that terrible to you, a man who's never had cause to have bad dreams…"

"I have," he said. "When I was in Azkaban. I had nightmares every night. Always about you, about what might be happening to you."

"You had nightmares about what _might be_ happening to me. I have nightmares about what's _actually_ happened to me."

"I'm sorry. I love you, Narcissa. I'm… I'm not a good husband. But I can do better."

"Can you?"

"I'm not seeing Juliet anymore. I'm not seeing anyone."

"You will, though. What bothers me most, Lucius, is that I'm not even certain I care anymore. I mean, I'm not happy to learn that you were with my niece, of all women, but if you strike up a new affair tomorrow with Hortensia or Euphemia or Armithia or anyone else we know, or anyone I don't know, or if you end up back with Juliet, I'm not sure I can care anymore. I don't have the energy to be hurt by it. I'm too busy, Lucius. I'm busy worrying about our son. About Bella. About…" She wanted to say, 'About Severus,' but couldn't without revealing far more than she ever intended to tell him. "About Andromeda. About myself… about you… I'm too busy worrying we're going to die to worry that you might be messing around yet again. I haven't the energy for that anymore."

The clock struck three. The baby squirmed as if gassy. Though the newborn hadn't nursed in a couple of hours, Narcissa moved her into an upright position against her chest and shoulder and began rubbing her back in slow circles between pats, trying unsuccessfully to coax a burp.

"Let me hold her," whispered Lucius. "I was good at this with Draco."

"Yes," agreed Narcissa, passing the baby over. "You were."

Sure enough, half a minute after he took her in his arms, the newborn belched, whimpered, and promptly fell back to sleep. He continued to hold her in the same position, her head up by his shoulder, lightly stroking the back of her head, where a bald spot was already forming, creating a line of peach fuzz where thick black hair had been upon birth (Narcissa had assured Bella this was normal when the latter panicked, assuming something was wrong with her perfect daughter).

"I wanted a girl," said Lucius. "When you were pregnant for Draco. I know my parents wanted a boy to continue the family line, and I said that's what I wanted too, but I couldn't help picturing a little girl, just like you, with your hair and your eyes, following you around…"

"I wanted us to wear matching dresses," said Narcissa, no longer able to will away the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, not even sure what exactly she was crying about this time. "I wanted her to be my best friend."

"We could have had more," he said. "One more."

"We tried," Narcissa reminded him. "I lost it, remember? Just like the first one. And then I couldn't get pregnant again. I tried, Lucius, I swear I did…" It was the truth. Though she'd purposely 'lost' the one she'd conceived shortly before he went to Azkaban, the one she thought might have been Severus Snape's, the truth was that she'd tried for years after that second miscarriage to get pregnant again… even though the thought of it actually happening terrified her.

"You were a good father, Lucius. I was an awful mother."

"You might have gotten better with age," said Lucius, meaning for it to be comforting. He breathed in the sweet scent of the baby and added with a smile, "You know, like fine wine?"

She smiled, even though she would've been much happier with his assurance that she hadn't been an awful mother than with the possibility of getting better with age.

"Do you think our son has any idea how fucked up we are?" asked Narcissa. "He's an adult now. I don't want him to think this is normal."

"He knows it's not normal," said Lucius. "And… while we're being honest with each other… He wrote to me a couple of weeks ago. The letter I wouldn't let you see. He asked for the truth…"

"What truth?"

"About whether we waited until marriage." The baby squirmed and whimpered again so Lucius repositioned her, this time laying her on her tummy flat against his inner forearm, which he rested across his knees, her head at the crook of his elbow. Again he rubbed her back and she promptly calmed.

For the second or third time since he'd entered the nursery, Narcissa felt her breath hitching, her heart racing uncomfortably. "And you told him we did?"

"I told him we did not."

"Lucius!"

"He's a young man now, Narcissa! We can't baby him forever. He needed honesty. He wanted advice… father-son advice… and I gave it to him."

"What did you tell him?" Her voice trembled. "My little boy."

"I told your little boy where he could find the recipe to make a birth control potion and how to procure the ingredients without stealing, as you used to do, and I also let him know about a Muggle method of which I am aware, and I advised him to be careful. But that's all. I didn't tell him how young you were or that you were pregnant when I married you."

"What's the Muggle method?" asked Narcissa, trying not to focus on the fact that this father-son advice likely meant her son was… potentially in danger of becoming a father. The very thought made her sick to her stomach.

"Why do you need to know?" asked Lucus. "You don't need it."

She sighed. "Curious, that's all. So is he… does this mean he's… you know… _you know_?"

"I don't know," said Lucius. "I didn't exactly ask him to Owl me the moment the deed is done."

Red spots flecked across Narcissa's cheeks. "Don't say it like that! 'The deed is done.' Like it's an assignment he must complete, or an obstacle he must triumph over."

"Over which he must triumph."

"Well, that does it. Step away from the baby so I can murder you," she said with a sigh, as if killing him were merely an unpleasant task she must undertake, but she didn't draw her wand.

He laughed.

"I adore you, Pet."

Lucius returned the baby to her arms and kissed her temple.

"You haven't called me Pet in many years," she said. She let him kiss her lightly on the lips, even closed her eyes for a moment, almost enjoying it.

"I love you, Narcissa."

"I know."

"Don't be so cold with me."

"I'll do my best to muster up some warmth."

"Draco will be fine. You and I will be fine. I'm not worried." He kissed her cheek this time then strode off toward the door, turning back once his hand was on the knob. "We'll go out for dinner tonight. That pricey little place on Horizont Alley. Dovelings, I believe it's called. We've been there once or twice, remember? You can order a glass of wine. Just one. Sound alright?"

Narcissa nodded. It would be nice to get out. For a change. Even if he was planning to restrict her to one glass of wine. And even though she had no idea what they could possibly talk about for an hour or more over dinner at a small, quiet place typically populated only by couples.

"It sounds nice," she said after a pause. He smiled as if relieved.

"It's a date," he said. He shut the door.

"No," she whispered, cradling the baby against her breast, thinking of Severus and her last date with him and the way she'd felt when he told her he wanted her to have his baby. Merlin's beard, how she wanted that, even though she knew it was crazy, irrational, dangerous. How could she continue to love her husband as before when she was so clearly falling in love with another man?

"No," she whispered again to the sleeping newborn. "It's not a date. It's just dinner."

* * *

 **Review Responses:**  
 **Avery** \- Thank you so much! I like Snape/Hermione too (only when she's an adult, though) but the truth is I used to hate them as a pairing, which is why I thought it would be fun to have Narcissa jokingly suggest it to him. I'm glad you discovered this fic! Hope you keep reading/enjoying. :)  
 **Everything Hurts** \- Thanks! I think I fixed it. Thanks for loving this fic!  
 **Karli1252** \- Aww, so glad I could convert you to Cissy/Sev! lol I'm having a lot of fun with them. **;)**  
 **Vani12** \- I wasn't sure if anyone would catch that the date of the next cinema show is after the Final Battle. It depressed me to think about too!  
 **Half-as-Beautiful, Trickster32, .oncer12, Prettylillpsycho, Firetemplar45, Harry Hobbit, Shira, Yunogasibitch, Hello, Anotherdarkshado, Elphaba8385, hendo2207, Guest, PopularCats, and anyone else I might have missed** \- Thank you for continuing to read and review! You keep me going and make me smile with every review alert!  
 **-AL**


	34. March 11, 1998

**A/N: CURSED CHILD SPOILER-ISH ALERT**

Bella's baby is "The Augury" from Cursed Child but has not been given that person's name yet. If you already read Cursed Child, you're probably wondering why I'm currently calling her Nova instead of… You-Know-Who. That will be explained later in this fic… If you don't want to have any idea what I'm talking about, don't read the last few chapters of this fic (I'll warn you one final time when we get there) or the epilogue of Dying for the Dark Lord. **:) -AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Four – March 11th, 1998**

"Cissy? Do you think I'm doing alright as a mother?"

"For the love of all things magic, Bellatrix, as I tell you every day, yes, I think you are doing alright as a mother."

Today the two were chatting in Narcissa's bedroom. With so many people coming and going from Malfoy Manor it was getting increasingly difficult to Obliviate everyone who accidentally came into contact with Bella's baby. The Dark Lord had taken pity on Bella, though, in a sense, by telling the Rowles the truth about her baby surviving childbirth, then forcing them to make the Unbreakable Vow (as they had before) to ensure they would tell no one else. Since the Lestrange brothers and the Malfoys already knew the truth, this meant Bella only had to be cautious to avoid Wormtail, provided no one else was stopping by for the day.

Unfortunately on this day, March 11th, others were indeed 'stopping by,' thus, after breakfast, Narcissa and Bellatrix returned to the master bedroom together to care for the baby. They sat beside each other in the bed, Bella nursing, Narcissa reading (another Muggle mystery, sent to her by Severus via owl).

"I hate keeping her a secret, Cissy." Bella detached the newborn from her breast, adjusted the front of her dress, and moved her into burping position. "I want the world to know about her. I want to show her off. How old was Draco when you were able to show him off? I know you didn't want anyone around for the first few months. Hell, you made me wait fourteen days and I'm his damn godmother."

Narcissa rolled her eyes and set her book aside. "Other than family and close friends, we kept him to ourselves in the beginning simply so we wouldn't risk him getting sick. Lucius' aunt lost a baby a few years before when she contracted Black Cat Flu at eight weeks old, brought into the home by a visiting relative."

While the death by Black Cat Flu was the truth, that wasn't the real reason they didn't let people come by much for the first two years of their son's life, but Narcissa figured her sister was critical enough based on what she knew, so why give her more to feel superior about?

"You're lucky we let you see him after only two weeks. We made Aunt Walburga wait until he could sit up independently." (This was because Aunt Walburga was particularly judgmental, even more so than Bella or Mother, thus Narcissa didn't think she could handle her presence.) "When Draco was six months old we figured we were in the clear, so we had that huge Christmas party, remember? You were there. We invited extended family and friends and important people from the Ministry and introduced him to everyone all at the same time. It was nice to have something to celebrate, considering the war…"

"Maybe when this war is over, when the Dark Lord has triumphed over that wretched Potter and Dumbledore's minions, maybe He will change His mind and we can do the same, throw a massive party, and I can tell everyone, 'This is my daughter, Nova Black.' What do you think?"

"Oh?" Narcissa stroked the baby's soft cheek. "Is that her name today? Nova Black?"

"I think it's the one I'm sticking with. I like it."

"What happened to Cassiopeia?"

"I've been reading through that book on Greek Mythology from the library. Cassiopeia was unbelievably beautiful, which I think suits my little one, and she was also the queen of Aethiopia, so I like the royal tie-in, but the star borders Andromeda, because Andromeda was Cassiopeia's even more beautiful daughter, and that I don't like at all."

"You liked Lyra the other day. It's off the list?"

"It's bordered by Draco and Cygnus, which is nice – Father's name was Cygnus, remember?" (Narcissa nodded.) "But Lyra comes from lyre. A lyre is a music thing. An instrument of some sort. A simple one, sort of a horseshoe-shaped harp. And I don't care for music or instruments or horseshoes. Besides, Lyra seems rather inappropriately insignificant for the daughter of the Dar… the darkest witch to make her name in our world since Medea."

"Well, someone thinks awfully highly of herself," teased Narcissa, not catching what her sister had nearly confessed about the girl's parentage.

"I thought about Aquaria, like a feminine version of Aquarius, because Aquarius was labeled 'The Great One' and I believe she will be far greater than any other modern day witch, perhaps myself included. Aquarius relates to water, though, and I don't see how that fits in anywhere… what kind of magic is water? Anyone can manage water." Bella grabbed her wand from between them on the bed and gave it a flick. "Aquamenti!" A stream of water rushed from its tip, arching over the baby, and soaking Narcissa's book, which was between them on the bed.

"For goodness sakes, Bellatrix," said Narcissa in the tone a mother would use with a naughty child. Bella apologized and tapped the book, using a nonverbal spell to dry it. The pages were slightly curled, but it showed no other damage.

"I liked Libra, too, like the zodiac sign, but when I read about it, it's associated with fairness and civility and law, which the Dark Lord said sounded soft. He said a child named Libra would surely be sorted in Hufflepuff and we can't have that, it would be an embarrassment to His – er – to our family name."

Again Narcissa failed to catch what Bella had inadvertently revealed.

"Speaking of our family name… you're calling her Nova _Black_? Not… not naming after her father?"

"Stop trying to trick me into telling you who her father is, Cissy. If I wanted you to know, I'd have told you."

"But not Lestrange? She won't have the same last name as her mother?"

"I thought about Lestrange, but since Rodolphus and I are not on speaking terms at the moment…"

"Just answer one question for me…" As she spoke, Narcissa summoned over a brush, hand mirror, and ribbon from her vanity, partially because she intended to fix her hair and partially because she needed something to do with her hands other than wring them the way she usually did when she considered this possibility: "You _do_ know who her father is, right? And it's definitely _not_ my husband?"

"That's two questions," answered Bella. "You need to work on your math skills."

"Bellatrix Druel–"

"Don't say it! Don't say my middle name!" Bella frowned and settled the baby, who had finally burped, back into the crux of her arm. "I was merely teasing you, Narcissa Elladora. Yes, I know who her father is, and no, it is _not_ your husband. Why do you keep asking me that? Do you think I'm lying to you? Do you think I'd lower myself to having an affair with your husband behind your back whilst living in your home and then go and get pregnant by him and have his baby and not even tell you? That hurts. It hurts you think that of me, your only sister."

"You're not my only sister."

"Fuck off, yes I am. For the final time, trust me, Cissy. I do _not_ want your husband, I've never _wanted_ him, and if for some odd reason I had a momentary lapse in judgment that resulted in him getting me pregnant, I would swiftly abort it, because I don't want to sully my genetic material as a Rosier and a Black by mixing my DNA with his unworthy Malfoy blood. No offense to Draco."

"I don't know what genetic material or DNA are," said Narcissa. "But I'm relieved to hear you say that and I promise I'll stop asking. It's just… I found other the other day… he confessed to me that he had an affair a couple of years ago with our niece. Nymphadora."

"Andromeda's Nymphadora? Talk about a stupid name. I wonder why she picked it. Do you suppose it comes from mythology too? Or just an odd take on the word Nymph? In mythology, a nymph is a nubile goddess-maiden who dances and sings and works with nature…"

"Don't try to distract me, Bella. Lucius told me that you knew about it. He said Severus was ordered to enter into an affair with her but refused, so you tortured him, but he still refused, and then Lucius offered to do it."

Bellatrix sighed. She placed the baby gently on the bed, far enough from either side or the end in case she should suddenly learn to roll, and turned to her sister.

"I'm sorry, yes, I knew. It was indeed on the Dark Lord's command. I don't know what was wrong with Severus, why he was so against it. I think he just figured she would never consent to being with him and didn't want to set himself up for failure, hurt feelings, all that rubbish. But I did use the Cruciatus on him on the Dark Lord's orders, that and a few other little curses I know. Wasn't as fun as you'd think. He didn't even try to fight back. On the contrary, he acted bored, which bothered the hell out of me because it made me question whether I was out of practice. It was shortly after I got out of Azkaban, when the Dark Lord found me again. I had been alone for two weeks before He summoned me and I was so eager to please Him, hell, I might have offered to screw the girl in Snape's place if Lucius hadn't volunteered."

"That's nasty," said Narcissa. "You're related."

"It was also hyperbole. I wouldn't have actually _done_ it; I was making a point – the point being that I wanted so badly for Him to be happy, which is why I didn't try to convince him _not_ to have Lucius do it when Snape refused. On the contrary, I… I encouraged it. I'm sorry, Cissy! I _did_ feel badly for you, knowing you would be hurt if ever you found out, but when Snape wouldn't relent I suggested Lucius."

"Wait, you suggested Lucius? He didn't offer?"

"He didn't offer, no. But he also didn't object."

Narcissa bit her lip, thinking this over. She wondered why Lucius hadn't told her that her sister had suggested him as a replacement for Severus. Was he trying to spare her feelings? Did he really think it would hurt less to think that her husband had offered?

"You presume Sev – er, Snape – wouldn't do it because he thought she wouldn't want him?"

"I don't know, honestly. He's weird about women. He fell for one a long time ago and she broke his heart or some mess, doesn't matter, but he's never been _normal_ in that regard. I'll spare you the details, Cissy, but suffice it to say when we've been given our… our choice… of those the Dark Lord has deemed unworthy of magic… Let's just say, Snape never steps forward to claim a prize for himself, if you catch my meaning. Which is weird, because it's not like he's getting any anywhere else, right? I mean, fuck. He's utterly pathetic. If I didn't know better, I'd think he were a virgin. Who would want him?"

"I don't think he's utterly pathetic!" snapped Narcissa, who missed the significance of "If I didn't know better." Immediately after her defense of him, she mentally scolded herself, ordering, _'Clear your mind. Clear your mind,'_ as Bella moved to make eye contact.

"You don't?"

"I… I think it's nice. That Snape doesn't want to… to claim women as prizes. Is that something my husband has done? Has he… assaulted… these women the Dark Lord gives out?"

"Don't worry your pretty head over it." Bellatrix tugged Narcissa's hair affectionately. "They're Mudbloods and Muggle-borns. They don't matter. I've had a few. It's fun. We play with them a little then kill them afterward so it's not like they have to suffer long. Besides, they don't mean anything."

"You scare me." Unlike her sister moments ago, Narcissa was not utilizing hyperbole. The thought that she could actually do… _that_ … especially considering all they'd been through, terrified Cissy.

Bellatrix half-smiled. "Sometimes I scare myself. So, what do you think?"

"Of what?"

Bella reached for the baby, kissed her button nose, and settled back against the headboard, pillows behind her, with the baby resting against her chest. "Of Nova Black! It's a good name, right? I have to settle on one soon. She's almost two weeks old. I can't call her 'the baby' forever."

"Is Nova a constellation? Or a star?"

"Neither. A nova is when a white dwarf star suddenly gets brighter, so bright it's the brightest thing in the sky, which typically results in a massive explosion on the star's surface. I read about it in an astronomy textbook I found here in the library. I had a lot of time to read while on house arrest these last couple of months."

"Me, too. I think I've read more in 1998 than I had in all my years at Hogwarts combined."

"Not surprised. You were never terribly into books. Anyway, a nova happens on a star that lies dormant for a long time, dull, not seen, then, suddenly, it's overwhelmingly bright and powerful – that's what I want for my daughter. She'll be kept a secret for as long as she needs to be, then, when the time is right, she'll get bright and strong and there will be an explosion and suddenly she will be all that matters in the night sky and everyone will look at her and be in awe. And it also brings to mind Supernova, which is when a star reaches the end of its life and explodes. In those moments right after the explosion the Supernova outshines everything around it, entire galaxies, and resonates more energy than the sun. Can't you picture her that way? Radiating energy is like harvesting magical power. It reminds me of an Obscurial, except my daughter won't be one of those because we'll teach her from a young age to harvest and utilize that power, not to suppress it, and when she is able to show the world what she's capable of, no one else will compare."

"That sounds perfect, Bella," said Narcissa. It did, too. It sounded exactly how Bella would want to picture her offspring, even though it seemed a bit violent to Narcissa and not as sweet or soft as a lovely name like Lyra. "Hey, Bella? Completely unrelated, but… do you ever talk about… about bedroom things… with anyone?"

"What?" Bella tore her eyes away from her baby to look at her sister. "What do you mean, bedroom things? Like vanities and canopies and mattress toppers?"

"No, not things in a bedroom! I mean, like… like… like _bed-bedroom_ things. Lucius and I were talking the other day, and… well… He said he talks to Draco about, you know, _bedroom_ _things_ , apparently, gives him advice, and he's also, apparently, spoken to Severus about… about that stuff, and he said… he asked… he said, 'Don't you and your sister ever discuss such things?' or something to that effect." Narcissa bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Lying to Bellatrix always made her nervous, but she wasn't fibbing about much, only leaving out that it had been Severus who asked, not Lucius.

"You want to have the sex talk with me?" asked Bellatrix, finally understanding. "Didn't we do that when you were at Hogwarts? Oh, no, wait, that was Andromeda I gave the sex talk to. You were fucking around with that cradle-robber before it had even occurred to me you might need to know where babies come from."

"I wouldn't call Lucius a cradle-robber. He wasn't that much older than I was."

"A couple of years makes a big difference when of the two is thirteen."

"I was fourteen."

"You were a Third year."

"Fourth year."

"The point is, you were my baby sister and he ruined you."

"Bella!" Narcissa took the newborn from her sister's arms and moved her into the bassinet at the end of the bed, then knelt facing Bellatrix. "You can't possible truly think that Lucius _ruined_ me by taking my virginity."

"I don't like him, Cissy. I've never liked him. When you started dating him, I was a Seventh year, remember? He was a Sixth year. You were a Third year. A Third year! Practically a baby! And he was a year away from being a grown man. Sixth years are much older than Third years. I know it's only three years so as an adult the distinction doesn't matter, and I know that I…" Bellatrix paused, not willing to reveal that it was before the start of her Seventh year that she started sleeping with the Dark Lord, who was then around 42. "I know it might seem hypocritical of me, given that I've been with those who are both quite a bit older and quite a bit younger, but Narcissa, you were different. I tried so very hard to keep you safe and pure and unsullied by man and then at the start of your Third year Stepfather was murdered and I was finally able to breathe and then what did you do? Six weeks later you started dating Lucius Malfoy and it was like I did all that work for nothing!"

"All what work?"

Just as it was in childhood, Narcissa felt so far behind her sister (both of her sisters) in so many ways. Even though she'd grown up faster than they had in regards to dating, falling in love, having sex, getting pregnant, and getting married, she was eternally naïve, a trait Lucius claimed to consider amusing, and one that Severus seemed to find endearing as well, but personally she found it frustrating the way things would fly over her head and have to be explained later.

"Never mind, Cissy. What is it you want to know about sex? I assume we're clear on how babies are made, since you have one? Are you wondering if it's supposed to feel good? If so, I can only advise you to have an affair so you can see for yourself, because you're not going to find satisfaction in the bed of your husband. Or have you already had an affair? Don't think I've forgotten the night you came home smelling of sex."

"Bellatrix!" Narcissa swatted Bella's arm. "I don't want to know how it works, or… or how it's supposed to feel. I already know. I've been married for twenty-five years. But I am curious about… other things."

"Like what?"

"Like… how many men have you been with?"

"How many?"

"Yes, how many?" It was the same question she'd asked Severus, and Bella replied by asking the same question he had.

"You want me to count?"

"Or you could give an estimate," said Narcissa. "If you don't know."

"I can count. Unlike you, my math skills are developed enough that I can count all the way to ten, since I have that many fingers." (Narcissa flipped her off.) "Just men, you said? That's fine. Let me think…" Bellatrix ticked off her fingers, mumbling incomprehensibly. "Five."

"Five?" Narcissa was taken aback. "Is that all? You can't be serious."

"You're only counting real sex, right? Not sexual acts? Not the things I used to do to those pitiable Slytherin boys when I needed them to procure for me difficult potions ingredients or write my Transfiguration essays when I didn't have the energy to study Sixth year?"

"I… I suppose that doesn't count," said Narcissa, not sure about how she should feel with the knowledge that her sister traded sex acts for completed homework back at Hogwarts but hoping this was not the sort of thing that would ever occur to Draco. "So you've only had sex with five men? Ever? I… I hope you won't take this the wrong way, Bella, but given your reputation, I rather thought your number would be double that. Or even triple. Or higher."

"A lot of people think that," she said, and to Narcissa's surprise, she appeared rather hurt by this. "There's only ever been one man I wanted to be with, but He… Oh, it doesn't matter. There's just Him, and, of course, my husband, and a couple of mistakes I'd rather forget. In June it will be twenty-five years since I got married. Well, you're aware; we were married the same year. But can you believe it? I lost half my life to Azkaban, Cissy. Or a third, technically, but half my adult life. I could've had my daughter over a decade ago. She could be a First year right now. Draco could be intimidating the other Slytherin boys, making sure they stay away from her, as I tried to do for you and Meda. I lost a lot of time. So yeah, only five. Any other assumptions about me you'd like debunked? Anything else you're dying to know?"

"Just… just one thing… I… like… well…" Given her shock over the last answer, Narcissa wasn't even certain she wanted to ask her follow up question, but she figured if she didn't do it now she'd never work up the nerve. "When did you first, you know? I mean, my son, he's seventeen, and he's apparently thinking about… you know… and I know when and why I first did… you know… but I don't know what's, you know, normal. You know."

"Say 'you know' once more and I'm going to turn it into a drinking game where I take a shot of firewhiskey for every time you say 'you know.' I'll be drunk three sentences in."

"Bella, darling, just tell me! When was your first time?"

"I don't remember."

"Pweeeease, Bewwa?" whined Narcissa, eyes wide and innocent.

"Oh, fuck, don't you start with that _Bewwa_ shit. Fine, if you must know… if you want to know when I first had sex, I was seventeen, okay? As I told Draco on New Year's Eve, it was the night of my first date… if you can call it a date. Doesn't matter. It was shortly before I returned to Hogwarts for Seventh year. And no, I won't tell you with whom. But if you want to know when I lost my virginity, it was almost exactly two years prior, which is something I've never told anyone, not even my husband or the Dark Lord, and I would appreciate it if you didn't either." Bella's face had taken on a harshness Narcissa hadn't seen in months, but it made her just as uncomfortable as it always had, because this expression on Bella could indicate danger. Curiosity, however, won out over fear, thus Narcissa asked another question.

"I don't understand. How could you lose your virginity two years before you first had sex? That doesn't make sense."

"It's semantics, I suppose. I… Cissy, do you know how Legilimency works?"

"What? Why?" She avoided eye contact. "I know it's like mind reading."

"It's more than mind reading. It's more nuanced than that. See, Occlumency, blocking your mind, can be learned by anyone with the drive and the time, though a natural aptitude for it helps, as with any other sort of magical education. But Legilimency, that's different. Witches and wizards can study for decades and never manage to master it. You have to have an additional sense – Muggles call it a Sixth Sense – and it's not just reading minds, though if you cultivate it, that's what you can learn to do. Read thoughts in real time, or see someone's memories against their will, or hear their inner dialogue, especially when they're feeling particularly strong emotions like love or fear or hatred, and sense when they're lying, which is especially helpful." She smiled, thinking of all the time that particular skill had come in handy while she and the Dark Lord questioned those they'd captured. "If you have a sense for it, if the ability is in you at birth, it begins manifesting by making you more in tune with how others are feeling. Not to be confused with empathy. You don't have to give two fucks about how they feel, but you can sense how they feel. Like with you, when you're nervous or sad. I don't even have to be in the same room as you and I can feel it, because you're my sister and we're closely connected. When I was a kid, I could feel it too. When you'd cry, it hurt me from the inside, I can't explain it. I hated hearing you cry because it felt like the crying was also there in my head. This is partly why I tried to protect you more than Andromeda. She was stronger, she didn't cry, and he had less interest in her, so she didn't need me as much, but I also wasn't as closely tuned in to her."

"I think I get it."

"With other people, I could sometimes feel what they were feeling if what they were feeling was particularly strong in the moment. When Father died I couldn't stand to look at Mother because her sadness would consume me and become my sadness and I didn't _want_ to feel that way. I never cried for him, not once, and I loved him, Cissy, I did. I wanted to be strong, the way he would want me to be, so I just… I just stayed away from Mother."

"Did Mother know?"

"Fuck Mother."

Narcissa bit her lip. Bellatrix pressed on.

"Now, there are more potential Legilimens in the Wizarding World than there are those capable of practicing it, and this is because many don't realize they've got the potential to learn, or if they do, they don't bother to cultivate it because it's difficult and frustrating and honestly, there are documented cases of Legilimens who regretted ever attempting to build upon their gifts because they weren't able to be in control enough and therefore ended up going insane thanks to hearing the thoughts of others in their minds all the time. It's precise, complicated magic. I didn't realize that's what I was until… until the Dark Lord was teaching me Occlumency. He recognized me for what I was almost straight away, whereas I simply thought I was more perceptive than you or Andromeda, which I attributed to you being self-involved and her being average as all-hell."

"Okay," said Narcissa slowly, trying to piece this together in her mind. The book on beginner's Occlumency had revealed very little about the actual art of Legilimency – it was strictly about how to control one's own mind and block intrusion, so any mentions of Legilimency were only made relating to that. She wished she'd thought to research it more.

"He liked you so much, Cissy," continued Bellatrix. "He didn't like me. He only did what he did to me to _control_ me, to _punish_ me for being headstrong and unafraid and disobedient, and he used Andromeda on occasion because she was _there_ , but he _liked_ you, and that's so much worse."

"Father?"

"No, Stepfather. Keep up. Stepfather liked you."

"He liked to look at me."

"He liked everything about you." Bellatrix sneered, disgusted. "He liked to watch you sleep. He liked to watch you undress. I didn't know it was because I was a potential Legilimens, but sometimes, when he looked at you, I could feel… I could feel what he was feeling. And I hated it."

"You could feel…?"

"Lust, mostly. And a predatory feeling, like a wolf stalking a bunny. It made me sick to my stomach. It still does. But he liked you pure and good and clean, so I didn't worry too much. I worried about you because of how it made you feel, how it scared you and made you tremble when he'd look at you, but I wasn't afraid… he barely touched you."

"That's not true," whispered Narcissa, wishing she hadn't started this conversation. This wasn't at all what she'd wanted to talk about. She drew up her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"I mean comparatively speaking, Cissy. He never kissed you on the mouth, he never made you touch him, he never put his fingers insi–"

"Stop! Stop, Bella. I don't want to hear any more."

"But he wanted to, Cissy."

"Stop, please."

"The summer before my Fifth year, you were about to start your First, and he didn't want you to go. He was in our room. He was looking at you. You were asleep. I could feel… what he was feeling. And I told him he'd better not. That's all I said. 'You'd better not.' And he turned and looked at me, and that was the first time I actually _saw_ someone's thoughts, Cissy. I invaded his brain and I saw what he was thinking about doing to you…"

"Stop it, Bella, you have to stop. I don't want to hear. I'll have bad dreams."

"He was going to do it before we left for school."

"Stop."

"I couldn't let him. So I told him he could have me instead. Willingly. The good news is that he didn't enjoy it. It ruined me for him, he said. He liked us better pure… clean. Virginal. Not ruined. Which suited me fine, because I'd accomplished what I'd set out to – to keep him from doing that to you – and I didn't even have to keep doing it. He made me do other things, things he wouldn't dream of forcing you to do, or even Andromeda, but not…" She smirked. "Not _you know_."

Narcissa burst into tears.

"Oh, Cissy, Love." Bellatrix, looking genuinely surprised by this reaction, put her arms around her younger sister, who was still curled in a defensive position, clutching her knees to her chest. "Cissy, don't cry. It was one time, nearly thirty-two years ago, for fuck's sake, I'm over it."

But Narcissa couldn't stop the tears.

"Cissy, I'm sorry! Please don't cry. You have to stop crying. Didn't I just tell you I can't stand it when you cry? Cissy? Damn it." She grabbed her wand. "Imperio! Now, calm down. Deep breaths. Stop crying. Breathe in. Breathe out. That's a good girl."

Once Narcissa was reasonably calm, Bellatrix lifted the Imperius curse.

"Sorry, but I had to. I couldn't handle all that. Here." She handed Narcissa the burp cloth. "Wipe your eyes."

"There's spit up on this," said Narcissa. "You want me to wipe my eyes with baby spit up?"

"It's the best I could do on short notice," said Bella with a nervous giggle. "Are you okay now?"

"I don't know," answered Narcissa honestly. She dried her eyes on the corner of her pillowcase instead. "I'm so confused."

"About?"

"Everything."

Bella nodded. "Oh."

"My son is writing to my husband asking for sex advice and honestly I'm worried my son is going to end up exactly like his father and that scares me. He's already showing signs – like taking that Astoria Greengrass out over New Years while still dating Pansy Parkinson. He apparently wrote to Lucius recently wanting to know about contraception which can only mean he's either doing _you know_ or planning to do it."

"You said 'you know' again. I get to take another drink. How many am I up to? I haven't had a drink in months."

"You don't even like to drink."

"That's not the point."

"I just… I can't come to terms with the knowledge that my little boy might be becoming a man in that way, and I'm also worried about what sort of man he's going to become. What if cheating on one's wife is hereditary?"

Bella shook her head, picked up Narcissa's brush, and began running it through her thick, black hair. "Cissy, you want to know why your husband screws around with other women?"

Narcissa stared down at her fingernails, which were eggplant purple today.

"…No."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't!" Narcissa pouted. She took the brush back and ran it through her own hair. "I don't care _why_ he does it. He says they let him look at them, so I suppose he's just happy to be with women who aren't so _sexually repressed_ as I am." That's what Severus had called her, before they were together for the second time. He'd asked if she was so sexually repressed no one could see her naked, then, later, those were the exact same words Juliet used when telling her how terrible Lucius had apparently said she was in bed.

"You _are_ sexually repressed," said Bellatrix. As she so often did, she tugged Narcissa's hair, as if to ask her not to be mad about this assessment. "It's okay. It's understandable. We all react to childhood trauma in different ways. Andromeda developed an obsession with order and cleanliness then ran off with a man she knew Mother would hate, casting us aside forever, but you became scared and shy and closed-off despite trying at the same time to be the perfect daughter, wife, and mother, while I acted out, behaving promiscuously, doing whatever I wanted with whomever I wanted, always ensuring that I had the power in the situation, whatever that situation may be. So it's okay that your coping mechanism was to grow up sexually repressed, because that's probably better than becoming a Muggle-loving clean freak like Andromeda or a murderous slut like me."

Narcissa arched her thin eyebrows, not buying this. "So you're saying I'm sexually repressed, Andromeda is a clean freak, and you're a murderous slut, all because we were abused as children?"

"Precisely. Trust me. I've read a Muggle psychology book so I know what I'm talking about," said Bellatrix. Catching the look of confusion on Narcissa's face, she explained, "Psychology is, like, the magic of the mind, but they call it a science and it's the sort of thing Muggle Healers manage. The type who work in the ward for those whose brains have become addled – like the Longbottoms at St. Mungos. I became interested in psychology years ago, before Azkaban, because knowing how to manipulate people makes me an asset to the Dark Lord, and as much as I enjoy physical torture and Unforgivable curses, there are times you can better get what you want by sheer mindfuckery. Does that surprise you?"

"That you've studied Muggle psycho… psycha… whatever? Yes, it does."

"I haven't changed all that much since Hogwarts, Cissy. People think I'm this crazy one-dimensional sadist who blindly serves the Dark Lord without question but I'm not his favorite merely because I'm loyal and faithful and I put out. I'm also bloody brilliant. I study, and I think, and I learn, and I adapt... I'm a multi-faceted person, Narcissa!"

"I know, Bella. Trust me. You confuse the hell out of me on a regular bloody basis because you're so damn multi-faceted sometimes even _I'm_ not sure who the fuck you are."

"It's mutual, Cissy! Did you hear yourself just now? I remember when you not only refused to say such offensive words, but you were personally affronted if others said them around you." Bellatrix giggled. "I remember I once called Lucius a tosser in front of Draco and you hit the roof."

"I didn't want him to repeat it!"

"He was six months old! He wasn't going to repeat it!"

"What if he had? What if tosser had been his first word?"

"Then I would have laughed my arse off. What was his first word, anyway?"

Narcissa shifted her gaze to the bedspread, which was black with embroidered silver flowers, and traced her finger along the stitching.

"Come on, Cissy. What was his first word? Was it tosser? Or was it Auntie Bella?"

"If you must know, it was Ta-ta, which is what he called Tatiana, the squib girl who nursed him. But his second word was Da-da."

"Oh." Bellatrix grinned. "So he could pronounce the letter T? He might as well have said tosser instead. Especially if he was addressing Lucius."

"Don't be a twat," said Narcissa, but she was mostly teasing. Bellatrix cracked up in response. "You know, Bella, when I said I wanted to talk to you about bedroom things, I was expecting better. I don't think trauma, psycho-babble, and baby talk are the sort of things men discuss."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "You wanted us to talk like men? Well, I assume all they do is inflate the stories of their personal conquests in an attempt to one-up each other, but if that's what you want, I can oblige. Let's see. Which crazy story should I tell you? Should I start with the time I fucked my husband on the Muggle Underground…?"

"You already told me about that."

"Or the time I got caught fucking another woman's husband in an alleyway…?"

"Sounds like something you should keep to yourself."

"Or that time I fucked Hortensia Higgins in front of the Dark Lord…?"

"You didn't!" Narcissa unbent her legs, moving to sit across from her sister rather than beside her. "That's disgusting! It's… it's unnatural! It's immoral."

Bellatrix shrugged, clearly enjoying this visceral reaction from her sister. "She wasn't the worst I've had. On the contrary, as much as I hate to admit it, she was rather good. As a person I find her utterly reprehensible and I can't stand to be around her but she really was… I mean, she knows what she's doing. Just goes to show, you can have great sex with someone completely independently of your negative feelings for that person – too bad that hasn't carried over to my marriage. Rodolphus and I have had great sex maybe four times ever and three of those were in public, which means they were great only because there was a chance of getting caught. Of course, to be fair, he and I spent half our marriage in Azkaban, where conjugal visits weren't exactly encouraged, so…"

"This was a mistake," said Narcissa. She bent over the bassinet to check on the baby. "I should have known better than to try to talk to you about anything, ever." The baby was fine, so Narcissa moved back to lean against the headboard. She picked up her book and opened to a random page, pretending to start reading.

Bellatrix laughed. "If you think being with a woman is immoral, Narcissa, I can only imagine what you'd think of some of the other things I've done. My vast array of experiences would make your head spin, little sister." She grabbed the book and tossed it across the room. It landed near the vanity with a soft thud. "I've done things you couldn't even _fathom_."

"Nor would I want to! Merlin's beard, Bellatrix." Narcissa shot her a look. "It isn't just that you've… you've _been with_ a woman, though, to be clear. I'm not… I'm not so closed-minded as that… I mean, it's the nineties, right? I realize some witches and wizards are… _that way_ – I've heard the Dumbledore rumors! – but you were with _her_? _Hortensia_? And _in front of_ the Dark Lord? Like, so He could watch? I can't wrap my brain around that and honestly I'd rather gouge out my own eyes than try to."

"So what did you want to know, then?"

"I don't know, Bella. I don't know what I wanted to know. Nothing, I suppose. No, that's not true. I want to know how you can be so damn comfortable with everything! I know, I know, you said I responded to childhood trauma by being sexually repressed while you went in the opposite direction, but I don't see how you could… I mean, I still have trouble being completely undressed in front of Lucius, and I don't let him touch me in certain ways, and I won't shower with him, and I've only recently started trying to do… _you know_ …" She wiggled her eyebrows and made a motion with her hand to indicate fellatio.

Bellatrix dissolved into a fit of giggles. "First, since you said 'you know,' I believe this means I get to take yet another shot of firewhiskey. Congratulations, I've now died of alcohol poisoning. Second, if that's how you're doing _that_ , you must not be very good at it."

"I'm fine at it!" insisted Narcissa. She dropped her voice, leaning forward conspiratorially, and asked, "Why? What should I be doing?"

"Tell you what, Love? Summon that house elf you like. Squeaky? Tell her we need a bottle of firewhiskey and a banana. Then I'll get a little tipsy and demonstrate for you." Bella flicked out her tongue like snake, clearly teasing Narcissa, whose entire face went bright red. Even her ears burned.

"I am _not_ doing that!"

"Okay, okay, fine, but if ever there were anything you wanted to try… to keep things interesting with your boring-as-fuck husband, or should you decide to have the affair like I've been encouraging you to engage in for years, you could come to me for advice. I'd tell you what to do and how to do it. I'd even sneak you off the grounds, now that I can apparate again."

"I… eww…" As much as her sister both scared and disgusted her at times, she couldn't help being a little curious… in truth, this _was_ part of what she wanted to discuss with her sister. And… if she were being 100% honest… she wouldn't mind learning how to be better with a banana. So to speak. "I don't know, Bella."

"Come on, Cissy. Surely there must be _something_ you want to know."

"Okay… how about… alright. So there's… okay. You know…?"

"I get to take another drink. Summon that house elf."

"No! Quiet. I'm trying to…" Narcissa took in a deep breath, let it out slow, then rushed the words of her next sentence out as quickly as possible, before losing the nerve. "When Lucius got upset with me recently he said he could do things with other women he couldn't with me and one of those things was grabbing my throat which I know the Dark Lord did to you and also in the past when I've been touched that way I go numb or I panic but I want to know if that's something people do or if… or if…" Her voice trailed off.

"You want to know if people choke each other during sex?"

Narcissa buried her crimson face in her hands, letting her hair fall across her, creating a blanket to hide her from view. Bellatrix squealed with delight, loving that her sister was finally coming to her for this sort of advice, the sort of advice she'd been happy to share with Andromeda when they were younger, when Andromeda was the only person Bella told about her trysts with the Dark Lord. Though she and Narcissa were closer (especially now) sex was not something they'd ever been able to discuss. It was exciting for Bella, who never admitted to missing Andromeda even though she absolutely did. This was like being reacquainted with an old friend.

Narcissa wouldn't want her sister to know it, but the real reason she was asking was because this wasn't because of Lucius, strictly speaking. It was because this was what Severus had done the first time they were together – he hadn't choked her, technically, but, when kissing, he'd put his fingers on her throat, applying the slightest amount of pressure – and in response she'd slapped his hand away, freezing up, and said, "Not like that." She hadn't thought of it much since, save for the one time she sort of let him do it again, the night Dumbledore was killed and she was so relieved she would have let him do just about anything – that time, he'd only done it for a few seconds, just barely pressed his thumb to her throat, and kissed above it, then released her. But ever since her fight with Lucius, when he'd pinned her down and left bruises on her neck and implied this was something other women let him do, she been wondering if she was, indeed, the reason he sought the physical affections of other women. Severus had assured her that being cheated on wasn't her fault, but what if he was wrong? What if she left Lucius and married Severus and after a couple of years with her sex became stale and sad because she was afraid to experiment or be looked at or be handled roughly or properly work over his… _banana_ … and he got bored and started screwing around on her just as Lucius had?

Not that she was planning to leave her husband to marry Severus.

No, of course not.

But what if?

"Narcissa? Stop hiding. Come on, now. Look at me. Has ickle Lucius been trying to choke you in bed, my darling sister? Do you want me to hurt him for you?"

"No," said Narcissa, still blushing, but allowing her sister to push her hair away from her face so they could see each other. "Forget I asked."

"You want to know why it doesn't scare me, Cissy? Even though it's something Stepfather used to do?"

Narcissa nodded.

"It's all about control. Save for last December – which we don't need to talk about – no man has ever choked me without me being in full control. See… put your hand here. Go on." Bella guided Narcissa's hand up to her throat, arranging her fingers so that her thumb was almost centered, then grabbed Narcissa's wrist. "I'm in control of how much pressure you put on me. If I do this…" She pushed down then released. "You put more pressure on my throat. If you put too much without my permission, I do this…" She pulled Narcissa's wrist roughly to the side, pressing her thumb against the vein just below her palm, causing her to lose her grip. "There's a certain amount of trust involved, too, of course. If I let a man handle me that way and he ended up hurting me, I wouldn't give him a second chance to do it again. Being able to wandlessly and nonverbally perform Unforgivable curses ensures this doesn't typically happen to me, though. So before you let Lucius do that to you, ask yourself if you trust him."

"I trust him," Narcissa whispered, but she wasn't thinking about Lucius.

"I like the combination of hair-pull and throat pressure. See?" Bellatrix, without further warning, grabbed the back of Narcissa's hair, forcing her head back so she was facing the ceiling, then placed her hand gently on Narcissa's throat. "Like that."

"I don't like that," said Narcissa. "Let go."

"Very well." She did.

"When Lucius did it, he wasn't facing me. He was… He was… like this." She put her hand on her sister's neck from behind. "Then he… he pushed me down on the dresser. I was frightened."

"Yes, well, that's the point at which I would have hurt him. I still may. If he touches you like that again, or in any other way you don't like, let me know. I'll take care of it. A boy at Hogwarts once snapped Andromeda's bra and I hit him in the crotch with a stinging hex. That probably would've cost me my Head Girl status if I hadn't already been replaced for sneaking away that one weekend to shack up with an older man."

"You were replaced for sneaking away with a man for the weekend?"

"What? Yes, Narcissa! What did you think happened?"

"Mother said you were failing classes."

Bellatrix stared at Narcissa in disbelief for several seconds before she began to laugh. "Mother! That's probably what she told her friends, too. Less embarrassing to have an idiot for a daughter than a slag. I'll have you know the only class I ever failed was Transfiguration Seventh year and that was only because I stopped turning in homework and that bitch McGonagall wanted to teach me a lesson even though I still kicked ass in class. I managed to score an Exceeds Expectations on my Transfiguration N.E.W.T too, so fuck her. I scored Outstanding in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, plus an Acceptable in Herbology, and I'm confident I would've gotten Outstandings in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes too if I hadn't dropped them at the start of the year. Pretty impressive for someone who stopped caring altogether by the time Christmas break ended, eh?"

"I don't think anyone who knows you would ever doubt your intelligence, Bella."

"And yet Mother had you believing I lost Head Girl for failing a class?"

"I never thought you failed the class because you weren't smart. I figured you failed because you so rarely showed up."

"Oh. Fine, then. I almost hope old McGonagall's still there when my Nova gets to Hogwarts. I plan to teach my baby girl the first two years worth of curriculum before she even sets foot on school grounds. Let that shriveled old cunt try to fail _my_ daughter. We'll show her. Nova will make that Granger Mudblood look like an inbred troll."

"Glad to see you don't hold a grudge," teased Narcissa. "So… tell me more about… about this choking thing. What's the point? Why… why do men do it? It's a dominance thing, right? It must be?"

"On your back, Cissy. I'll show you."

"You'll show me what?"

"I'll show you what they do and why. And what's in it for you. Lay back. Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

"I don't think I'm comfortable with this," said Narcissa cautiously, but she complied. Bellatrix knelt beside her.

"Typically, the man wouldn't be in this position, but forgive me if I have no desire to climb on top of you."

"Please accept both my forgiveness and my gratitude," said Narcissa.

"Loosen up first." Bellatrix smacked both her sister's tense arms. "Relax, for fuck's sake. Your limbs are so stiff it's as if you're dead. No man wants to fuck a dead woman. Well, actually, some do, but those men are creeps and we stay away from them, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay, so if I were the man, I'd put my hand here…" She placed it on Narcissa's throat, again with her thumb toward the center. "And you hold my wrist because you're in control, right?"

Narcissa grabbed hold of Bella's wrist.

"Then if you wanted me to apply pressure, you'd encourage me by pressing down…"

"Why?" asked Narcissa, not applying pressure. "What's the purpose of this?"

"You'll see. Do it."

Narcissa did it. The pressure made it hard to properly breathe and she felt herself feeling almost as if she'd had a little too much wine (back when 'a little too much' meant two or three glasses).

"See, Cissy?" Bella leaned over Narcissa, applying more pressure. "I'm constricting your air. Not a lot. Just enough. If I do it harder, or for long enough, your air intake will further decrease and you'll start to get lightheaded, maybe dizzy, maybe like you're going to pass out but not quite…"

There was a creak as the bedroom door opened.

There stood Lucius.

He froze.

A small smile made its way across his lips.

"My, my," he said, entering and closing the door behind him. "What's going on here?"

Narcissa slapped Bella's thigh. Bellatrix released her sister's throat.

"It's not what it looks like," said Narcissa, sitting up. "It's not what you're thinking."

"Could it be?" he asked hopefully, the grin growing.

"Don't be a pervert," scolded Bellatrix. She climbed off the bed.

"It's not what it looks like," said Narcissa again, blushing.

"Then what is it?" he asked.

"I was just showing Narcissa what it's like to be choked in bed," said Bellatrix.

"Ah," said Lucius, his blue eyes sparkling. "That's actually _exactly_ what it looked like."

"No, Lucius… it's not… don't… don't listen to her! We were just… I… she… oh, dear."

"I should go," said Bellatrix. "You probably have a lot to talk about. Let me just grab my baby and leave you to it. Here she is. Here's my lovely baby!" She lifted the sleeping newborn and cradled her close to her chest. "I'll be back for the bassinet. Have a lovely afternoon."

"Thanks very much, Bella," said Narcissa sarcastically. "You've been so helpful."

"You're welcome!" She blew her sister a kiss poked her head into the hall to ensure the coast was clear. Since it was, she hurried out, toward her own room.

"You spend a lot of time simulating sex acts with your sister?" asked Lucius, smirking. "Or is this something new? Either way, I like it."

Narcissa was suddenly glad she hadn't consented to let Bella teach her how to fellatiate a banana… though she wasn't sure which was worse to be caught doing.

"No! I just… I told her about you… choking me… and how you said it's something you do with other women… and I asked her why anyone would do that, and she was trying to show me, that's all."

"That's all?"

"What do you want?" she snapped. "Why are you here?"

"I live here. This is my bedroom. So, you wanted to know what it's like to be choked in bed? Why didn't you just ask me?" Lucius climbed onto the bed, crawling up over his wife, with his legs on either side of hers. He kissed her. "I would've been happy to show you."

"I thought it was one of those things you can only do with other women because you respect me."

"Unfortunately I don't have any other women around at the moment, thus it appears I'll have to settle for disrespecting you…" He put his hand on the back of her neck and kissed her throat, right about where Bella's thumb had been.

"How romantic." Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"How long has it been, Narcissa?" He repositioned her so she was again flat on her back. He relaxed beside her, his left leg flung over both of hers, and placed his left hand on her right hip.

"How long has it been for us? Or for you? Because I believe you were last with my cousin, maybe two weeks ago? But you haven't shown any interest in me since our anniversary, so, thirty-five days? I think? Math isn't my strongest skill."

"Didn't I request of you just the other day not to be so cold with me? I was rather hoping we were going to be together that night, after we got home from Dovelings, but you claimed to have a headache and went straight to sleep, thus if it's been awhile you can't blame me…"

"I think I have a headache right now."

"No, you don't."

"I'm not in the mood."

"I don't care. You're my wife and it is your duty as the wife…"

"I have my cycle."

"You just had your cycle last week!"

She shrugged. "It's a long cycle."

"Narcissa!"

"Fine!" She sighed in resignation, hitched her dress up to her mid-thighs, and flung her arms up over her head dramatically. "Take me."

He started by kissing her – on the lips, on the jawbone, on the clavicle – and by groping her chest with one hand while massaging her arse with the other, but she hardly reciprocated and after a few minutes he rolled away from her, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I can't fuck you if you're planning to play dead."

"Why not?" She rolled onto her side to face him. "Bella tells me some men are into that."

"I am not one of them. What's with you lately, Narcissa? Ahhh," he said, stroking his stubbly chin as if he'd suddenly had an idea. "I've figured it out. You've reached that time. The Change of Life. I suppose you're about the right age."

"The right… the right age?! I'm not even forty-three!"

"It happens after forty. This is why I seek out younger women. It's all downhill after The Change."

Angry spots dotted Narcissa's cheeks. "I am not undergoing 'The Change' Lucius!"

"Yes, that must be it," he mused. "That explains the overly long cycle…"

"I don't have my damn cycle."

"The lack of sexual desire."

"My desire is fine, thanks."

"Your irritability and mood swings."

"I don't have bloody mood swings."

"The bloating around your midsection…"

"The… what? Are you saying I'm getting _fat_?"

"I'm sorry I was trying to pressure you into sex, Narcissa. I remember the troubles my parents had when my mother was going through The Change, and…"

"Fuck you, Lucius," said Narcissa. She grabbed him roughly and pulled him to her, kissing him, then pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips. "I am _not_ going through The Change. I am not irritable, I don't have my cycle, my sexual desire levels are perfectly normal, thank you, and I am absolutely _not_ getting fat! I am as young and attractive and docile and amorous as I've ever been and I'll fucking prove it."

"Well…" His hands moved to her arse, grinding her down on top of him. "If you insist…"

It wasn't until a few minutes later, when she was on her back and he was breathing into her shoulder, nearing completion, that it occurred to Narcissa she'd been tricked into giving him exactly what he wanted. Damn it. This was exactly what the Dark Lord had done to Bellatrix when she refused to push out the head of the baby and was risking being cut open. Apparently being easily manipulated by an insult-slinging man was a Black sister trait.

Realizing this infuriated her.

"I'm angry with you," she said, digging her nails into his bare shoulders, which only encouraged him, making him pump harder. He was half-undressed and she was in her slip, and despite what he'd witnessed Bellatrix 'demonstrating' for her, he'd made no attempt to choke her or pull her hair or vary their usual routine in any way. Nope. It was simple missionary style after a few too-brief moments of customary foreplay, little talking, and precisely zero satisfaction on Narcissa's behalf. She clenched her teeth, seething. "I'm angry with you," she repeated. "Hurry up. Get off. I want to be done."

"Quiet," he replied. "You're distracting me."

She narrowed her eyes. "From what?!"

"Quiet!" With another couple of thrusts, grunts, and a groan, he finished, stood up, fixed his trousers, grabbed his shirt, and headed toward the loo. "I'm hopping in the shower then I have to go out for awhile. Won't be home for dinner."

"Fine." She adjusted her slip so it was better covering her but made no attempt to get out of bed. She figured she needed to shower too, thus what was the point in getting dressed? She glanced at the clock. She had birth control potion simmering upstairs in the attic. It technically would not be ready until tomorrow, but she didn't think there was much danger in taking it a couple of hours early. The only problem being that her lack of ability to leave the grounds meant she hadn't gone ingredients shopping in some time, and had only had enough materials left to brew one dosage, which she was now going to have to waste on her idiot husband.

While she waited for him to get out of the shower, she checked her notebook for a message from Severus. There had been one that morning when she'd finally dragged herself out of bed (nursing a hangover, her first in several days). She had made her way completely through the dessert section of the cookbook he'd given her, so he sent her a recipe to try, for a death-by-chocolate cake his grandmother used to make. She was hoping to make it after dinner… which would give her something to do while drinking.

He'd written above the transcribed recipe, _for you, my beautiful Narcissa, as promised,_ and below it the words, _until I have you in my arms again – SS_ , which had made her heart flutter.

 _I miss you,_ she wrote, wondering whether she should confess to him that she'd been with her husband. It was the first time since Severus had told her he wanted her all to himself, that he didn't want to share her anymore. Deciding this was something better discussed in person, she added, _when will I see you again?_

He responded almost immediately.

 _I'm working on that. Soon, I hope. It's been too long. –SS_

 _I agree. I keep replaying that night in the attic. The things you said to me. The things we did. –NM_

 _I meant what I said. –SS_

 _That I'm yours and you're mine? –NM_

 _Sure, that too. But I was actually referring to the bit about how my eyes do NOT twinkle. I meant it when I said that. –SS_

 _They absolutely DO twinkle, you snarky man. I can picture you sitting at your desk in the Headmaster's office writing this with your eyes twinkling right this second now. Go look in a mirror. See for yourself. I'll wait. –NM_

Severus smiled, setting down his quill. He was indeed sitting at his desk in the Headmaster's office (his office, for now, anyway – he hoped not to be Headmaster for long. It was a job he enjoyed even less than Hogwarts Potions Master) but he would not go look in a mirror. He didn't have to. He knew what flirting with her did to him and he wouldn't be at all surprised if she could see that in his eyes.

"Writing to your girl again, are you?" asked Dilys Derwent, former Hogwarts Headmistress and Healer, whose portrait was hanging behind him.

Severus forced the smile off his face as his eyes took on the blank expression he always wore in the presence of the Dark Lord.

"She's not my girl," he said.

"Who is this mystery woman?" asked Phineas Nigellus, also in portrait.

"No one that concerns you," said Severus coolly, closing the notebook, having no desire to inform Narcissa's great-great-grandfather about their affair.

"She must be something," said Dilys. "You don't seem as sullen and melancholy when you're writing to her. Your whole face changes. Your eyes twinkle."

"My eyes do not twinkle," snapped Severus, glad Narcissa couldn't hear this exchange.

"Severus has been falling for her for some time," said Dumbledore. "But he won't admit that to us. He can't even admit it to himself."

"I'll thank you not to meddle in my life any more than you already do," said Severus, glaring at Dumbledore's portrait and the others around him. "I'll be in my chambers."

He gathered his quill, the one Narcissa bought him for his birthday just over a year ago, and the notebook, and stalked off through his sitting room to his bedroom, but unlike last time Dumbledore had tried to talk to him about his feelings to Narcissa, he didn't respond by cutting her off. On the contrary, he sat on the edge of his bed, opened the notebook, and prepared to reply to her latest message.

 _You're taking forever. Get lost in your own eyes in the mirror? –NM_

 _I couldn't help it. The twinkling was too beautiful. I couldn't look away. –SS_

 _You're ridiculous, darling, but you make me laugh. What really happened? Did I scare you? –NM_

 _Not at all. I had sudden pressing business here at Hogwarts, but it's taken care of now. So, where were we? –SS_

 _I believe you were about to tell me that I'm yours. –NM_

 _Ah, yes, that sounds vaguely familiar. –SS_

 _Go on, then. I'm waiting. –NM_

 _You're mine, Narcissa. You're mine and I'm yours. –SS_

* * *

 **A/N:** Review Responses -  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed and also to my news faves and followers! **  
**Also, HI! to my newest reviewer, **Stefangelina.** I'm glad you discovered and are loving this fic! I do plan to keep it as canon as possible, but the story will not end with the Final Battle and while there is some sadness to come, I think the ending is on the happier side. **:) AL**


	35. March 12, 1998

**Chapter Thirty-Five – March 12** **th** **, 1998**

"Bella!" hissed Narcissa, nudging her sister. "Bella, wake up!"

They were seated around the dining room table at Malfoy Manor, during the first inner circle meeting the Dark Lord had thrown since the birth of baby Nova Black, who was, for the moment, left in the care of Squeakers the house elf.

The Dark Lord started the meeting by explaining that because His name was now a "taboo," no one could say it without accidentally summoning Snatchers to their side, which He hoped would be instrumental in helping them catch Potter since the boy was among the very few arrogant enough to say "Voldemort" rather than "He Who Must Not Be Named." The Dark Lord then recognized Yaxley, whose work at the Ministry made the taboo possible, and expressed His regret that the Carrows and Severus Snape were unable to attend the meeting due to their obligations at Hogwarts.

Next He glanced around the table at His followers, greeting each in turn. Thorfinn and Euphemia Rowle; Hortensia Higgins and husband Rocco Pyrites; Hazel Whitecrest, who'd been supporting the Dark Lord since well before the First War but was a contemporary of Lucius' parents, thus she rarely joined them anymore; longtime followers Dolohov, Travers, Macnair, and Selwyn; fathers of Draco's peers Nott, Bulstrode, Crabbe, and Goyle; Blaise Zabini's beautiful 'black widow' mother; the Lestrange brothers; Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf and non-Death Eater who led the Snatchers; and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, all of whom were staring back at Him with rapt attention. But one follower, the one seated directly to His left, was propped up with her elbow on the table, her cheek against her palm, and her eyes closed…

Snoring.

"Bella!" Narcissa poked her sister in the thigh. The Dark Lord stared expressionlessly at His most loyal and faithful follower. Again Narcissa nudged Bellatrix. This time, her head slipped off her hand and fell forward. She smacked her forehead on the table and jumped.

"I'm awake!" she cried, looking around panicked and confused, as if she hadn't expected to find herself in the middle of a meeting. She blinked several times before making eye contact with her Master. "Oh… shit."

"Are we keeping you from your nap, Mrs. Lestrange?" He asked.

"What? Uh, no. Nope. I was listening. Sir."

He sneered. "Your eyes were closed."

"I was resting them!"

"You were drooling."

"I… I often drool." She chewed her lip, looking very much like Narcissa in the moment.

"You were snoring," He said. "Do you often snore while awake?"

"I…" Bella looked to her sister. "I was snoring?"

Narcissa nodded.

"Sorry," Bella said, turning back to the Dark Lord. "I'm so sorry. Please don't punish me. I'm so sorry, my Lord, it's just… I'm so tired. Ever since my baby… _died_ … I'm so tired. I'm listening now, though, I promise."

"No," said the Dark Lord, voice cold, remaining expressionless. "Go. Get out. You are of no use to me in this condition. Mrs. Malfoy? Take your sister to the third floor and put her to bed."

"To the third floor?" asked Narcissa, confused. The third floor was where the Dark Lord slept, not where Bella's room was.

"Please, no, my Lord, please, I'll stay awake! It won't happen again! Please, don't send me away," Bella pleaded. The Dark Lord paid her no mind.

"The third floor," He confimed, looking only at Narcissa. "Stay with her until I say you may go. We do not require your presence here, either."

Narcissa nodded. Bellatrix was too exhausted and upset to argue further. She allowed herself to be guided up from her chair by her sister and led toward the door. Just before exiting, she turned back.

"I'm so sorry, my Lord." Bella looked terrified, probably because the last time she'd been ejected from a meeting she'd then spent the next several hours being physically, sexually, and magically tortured by Him in punishment, an experience she did not wish to repeat.

"He wants you on the third floor," Narcissa said once they were well out of earshot, her arm still around Bella's waist. "I assume that means in His chambers."

"If He kills me, take care of my baby," said Bella, sniffling.

"He won't kill you," Narcissa assured her, feeling not at all confident in this. "We have to make Him understand, a new mother's brain, it doesn't function the way… the way it did before the baby, or before the pregnancy. It's not your fault."

"Tell _Him_ that," said Bella, flinging herself backward onto His bed. Despite her worry, she fell asleep, with Narcissa sitting beside her in a conjured chair. An hour later, she awoke, complaining of sore breasts – she hadn't been able to nurse at the regular time because of the meeting. Though she wasn't sure whether this would make the Dark Lord angrier, Narcissa summoned the house elf and asked her to deliver the baby to them, ensuring no one saw. Moments later, Bella was finally able to breastfeed Nova Black (the name seemed to be sticking) and once she was done, exhaustion won out over fear as she fell asleep for awhile.

It was nearly two more hours before the Dark Lord joined them.

"Mrs. Malfoy," He said without inflection, as He took the infant from her mother's arms, handing her over to Narcissa. "Mind the baby until tomorrow morning. I have business to discuss with your sister."

And with that, Bellatrix, formerly the child who never cried, burst into tears. The Dark Lord was clearly taken aback by this, and much as Bella had when Cissy cried, He demanded she cease immediately.

"Stop. Stop that. Stop your crying."

Bellatrix did not stop crying.

"Bella…" The Dark Lord grabbed her roughly by the back of her hair, forcing her to look at Him. "Stop crying. Your sister will take the baby until the morning so you can get a decent night's sleep. Clearly, you need it."

This was an unusually compassionate thing for Him to say, which only made Bellatrix cry harder. The Dark Lord pushed her roughly away, onto the bed, but then draped a quilt over her, thus exhibiting an unsual juxtaposition of cruel and considerate – which, for Bellatrix, was par for the course considering their thirty year history, but to Narcissa it seemed bizarre.

He motioned for Narcissa to depart, but she paused by the door.

"How shall I feed her?" she asked nervously. She'd never been alone with the baby for more than a couple of hours before.

"How did you feed Draco?" asked the Dark Lord.

"I didn't," answered Narcissa. "We had a squib girl for a wetnurse."

"That's disgusting," said the Dark Lord with a sneer. "You're an intelligent woman. I'm certain you can figure something out. Go."

Unwilling to argue or question Him, Narcissa went.

But once in the hall, she didn't know _where_ to go. She couldn't risk the parlor, kitchen, or dining room, in case Death Eaters were still present. She didn't want to return to her bedroom, as she was still sore at Lucius for a comment he'd made during breakfast. To be fair, the comment was in response to a fight she'd intentionally started, but still… she fully expected him to apologize first.

The nursery would be fine except that it was right down the hall from the rooms occupied by the Lestrange brothers, which upped the chance she'd run into one of them and have to explain where her sister was.

And she didn't think the attic was an appropriate place for the baby.

Thus she decided upon the library, which was on the third floor, but on the opposite side from the Dark Lord's chambers. When she arrived, the door was cracked open and the lights were off. She entered, figured her sister had simply left the door ajar, but immediately realized she was not alone.

Against at stack of books about the history of witchcraft and wizardry, was a woman. And, with his arms around her, running his tongue along her breasts just above the seam of her black bra, his hands firmly planted on her arse, was Lucius, readily identifiable even from behind by his long, blond hair.

"Yes!" the woman was moaning. "Yes, yes… take me… take me now…"

Narcissa flicked her wand, muttering, "Lumos."

Juliet spotted her first and hurried to cover her chest with her hands, at a loss for words. Lucius spun around, saw his wife, and promptly reached down to adjust his unbuttoned trousers.

"Seriously?" asked Narcissa as the two pulled on their discarded clothing (his robe, her shirt). She re-positioned the baby she was cradling in her left arm and pointed her lit up wand at them. "Here, in our home? I thought you rented her a flat nearby so you could have your little trysts there, where I don't have to know about it, for fuck's sake."

"Don't use that language in front of the baby," scolded Lucius. Narcissa laughed bitterly, remembering how she'd once said the same to her sister when Draco was little. She replied exactly the way her sister had. Sarcastically.

"Yes, because the baby's delicate sensibilities will be offended."

"The baby?" Juliet's eyes widened as she buttoned her blouse. "Is that Bellatrix's baby? I thought it died?"

"Great," sighed Narcissa. "Now she knows the truth. I suppose this means we'll have to kill her." She raised her wand higher.

"No!" Lucius stepped in front of his mistress, not trusting that his wife wouldn't actually try to make good on the threat. "Narcissa, be reasonable. I tried. I tried to remain faithful to you. But you made it very difficult…"

"Me? You're blaming me? You're having an affair and blaming me?"

"You hardly let me touch you! And when I do, you're damn near unresponsive. I'm a man, Narcissa. I have needs…"

"Fuck you!"

"I wish you would!"

"I should go," said Juliet. She grabbed her traveling cloak from where it was slung over a plush armchair and shot Lucius a significant look. "I'm headed home. I'll be there all weekend."

"She can't leave," said Narcissa, still training her wand on the younger woman. "We'll need to Obliviate her. The Dark Lord…"

"The Dark Lord doesn't have to know that she knows."

Narcissa cocked an eyebrow, half-smiling, addressing them the way she had Potter the day she suggested he'd be seeing Sirius again soon. "What a shame it would be, then, if someone were to accidentally let this bit of information slip to her sister… her sister, who can't help but tell the Dark Lord everything…"

"Narcissa!" Lucius stalked over to her and grabbed her upper arm, nearly making her drop her wand (but thankfully not impacting her hold on the baby). "Don't even joke about that."

"Who's joking?" she asked, pulling away. "You were, apparently, when you said you'd stopped seeing her. You told me just yesterday that you'd stopped seeing her. Yesterday."

"Yesterday that was the truth," he replied. "But I tried with you, Narcissa. I've been trying with you for nearly a month. And you've only grown colder."

"So you _are_ saying it's my fault?"

"He's saying if you weren't such a frigid bitch, he wouldn't have to seek the warm embrace of another woman," said Juliet, who was now holding out her own wand, retrieved from her cloak.

Narcissa's wand hand twitched, just slightly, sending a stinging hex at Juliet, who blocked it, but barely. Juliet pointed her wand at Narcissa, prepared to respond, but Lucius stopped her.

"You'll hurt the baby!" he chastised, pushing her wand down. "What's wrong with you?"

Narcissa smirked, waited until her husband had stepped out of the way, and sent a second a second curse flying in her cousin's direction. The Cruciatus. Unlike when Bella had done so, it didn't bring Juliet to her knees, but she did double over in pain.

"Damn it, Narcissa!" said Lucius. "Knock it off."

"Sorry," said Narcissa, slightly pouting. "It was an accident."

"I'm leaving," said Juliet, straightening up, attempting to appear dignified. "You know where to find me, Love."

"Love?" Narcissa glared at Juliet as she left the library. "She calls you 'Love,' does she? I thought anything you had with other women was strictly physical? I thought you were only fucking her because you wanted to degrade her in ways you wouldn't want to do me, out of respect? But here she's calling you 'Love'?

"Don't, Narcissa," said Lucius, reaching for his wizard's robe. "You and your sister call everyone Love. It's just a word."

"Perhaps that's the trouble in our marriage, Lucius. You think 'love' is just a word."

"What do you want from me, Narcissa?" Lucius threw up his hands in frustration. "I've tried, but you refuse to meet me halfway! I took you out to dinner the other night and all you wanted to talk about were Draco and the baby. When we got home, you had a headache and went straight to bed. Then we were finally together yesterday, and you got angry with me because you felt I'd tricked you into it."

"You did trick me into it!"

"I shouldn't have to trick you into it, Narcissa! You're my damn wife! It's your obligation to be available to me!"

"My obligation? My obligation! What bloody year is this, Lucius, that sex on demand is still considered the wife's obligation?"

"Shut up. Sit down and shut up."

Stunned by his tone, Narcissa sank into one of the chairs, the sleeping baby still delicately cradled in her arms.

"I love you, Narcissa. It's not just a word when I say it to you. I do love you. I love you as I've never loved anyone else and I don't think I could ever love another woman as much. But I'm at a loss with you. So yes, when Juliet arrived late to the meeting and when she stayed to chat afterward and when the Dark Lord suggested I teach her to off both the Imperius and Cruiatus curses – it seems your sister has been less than willing to follow through with His orders to do so – I was content to oblige. I brought her up here to borrow a book on Unforgivable Curses. We were just talking about the Dark Lord's request when you interrupted–"

"Just talking, eh? Tell me, is there something wrong with the girl's ears?"

He looked her over quizzically. "No, why?"

"Because it looked as though you were spelling out the Dark Lord's request on her tits with your tongue."

He huffed, threw up his arms again, and began pacing, like a caged animal.

"She makes me feel good, Narcissa. Is that so foreign a concept for you that you can't–"

"Well, then, by all means, keeping right on fucking her in our home…"

"Understand why I might need–"

"Why not move her into the bedroom?"

"To indulge once in awhile? Life hasn't exactly been easy since my stint in Azkaban–"

"Then you won't have to sneak around…"

"The Dark Lord remains unhappy with me, He thinks me useless–"

"File for divorce, if you're so miserable…"

"And you aren't making it any easier–"

"It's not like you care about my feelings anyway…"

"So is it so bloody impossible for you to comprehend that maybe sometimes _I_ just need to feel _wanted?"_

"I… what? What did you say?"

"I said, the Dark Lord remains unhappy–"

"No," she interjected. "That last bit. Sometimes you just need to feel wanted?"

"Yes." He knelt in front of her, his hand on her knee. "I'm facing rejection in all facets of my life at the moment, Narcissa." Even in the dim light of the darkened library she could see the insecurity in his blue eyes, the same look he'd had before the first time he'd kissed her, when he didn't know whether shed reciprocate or slap him for trying. "Thanks to my arrest I've lost my standing in the Ministry and been kicked off the Hogwarts board of governors, surrounded by a stigma that remains even though the Dark Lord now controls both the Ministry and the school. I'm not one of His inner circle anymore, not really. If His headquarters weren't here, I might be cast out entirely – and my own wife, who outright refused to have another child by me, has to be tricked into wanting to make love to me at all. Do you have any idea how this makes me feel? Juliet _wants_ me, Narcissa. She isn't just using me to advance her status. Not anymore. And while I love you – I'm always going to love you – for the moment, I need what she provides, and I'm not going to pretend to be sorry for getting it."

Narcissa switched the baby from her left arm to her right, then twirled her hair around her left index finger. "You really think I'm a frigid bitch? Were those her words, or yours?"

His eyes narrowed. "Those were the words I used to describe you when I told her tonight how much I regret ordering her to stay away from me. I also told her that you can't satisfy my needs, but that I am committed to you."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I intend to remain married, but I also want her."

Narcissa nodded, keeping calm facade, but inwardly drowning in a sea of confusion, as she couldn't decide whether to feel hurt by her husband, or angry, or sorry for him. After all, she could relate.

She knew exactly how it felt not to feel wanted.

Unwilling to let him see how his admission affected her, she sat up straighter, glared at him, and said, "I'll be sleeping in the room adjacent to the nursery tonight. Figured I ought to warn you so you won't freeze to death if you happen to wander too close to me."

"Sleep wherever the fuck you want," he growled, standing. "I'm going to Juliet's. I'll be back in a couple of days."

Narcissa remained in the library for at least a half an hour, holding the baby in the dark and trying to work out what had just transpired. She had been angry and hurt to find him all over his mistress, but was she surprised to learn that the two were back together? And, all things considered, did she even have the right to be angry about it?

What he'd accused her of was true, wasn't it? She had indeed been cold with him. She had repeatedly rebuffed his advanced over the last couple of weeks, ever since Severus told her he wanted her to be his and his alone, and she hadn't exactly done so in the nicest possible way. Meanwhile she could relate to Lucius' feelings of insecurity and unwantedness. Isn't that what had propelled her into the Severus affair in the first place? An affair that had grown from "unemotional" and "not romantic" to "You're mine" and "I'm yours?" An affair that left her wondering whether she still even loved her husband? An affair that had her fantasizing about divorcing her husband so she could freely by with another man?

Plus, if she was thinking about divorcing him anyway, why did this hurt so much?

Was it the injustice of knowing he was carrying on with the girl right under his own roof? The unfairness of knowing he could spend the weekend with his mistress while she had to pretend to be barely acquainted with the man she'd grown to adore? Was it the realization that they were, indeed, unequal – as he could come and go from their property at will, while she needed to rely on others to Apparate her?

No.

It was more than that.

Because as much as she'd tried to suppress it, and as much as she'd been able to feel herself falling for Severus, the fact was, yes, she still loved her husband.

And she wanted him to still love her.

"I don't even know who your father is and I'm jealous of the relationship your parents must have," whispered Narcissa to the baby. "Because I'm certain it can't be any more messed up at the moment than that of your cousin Draco's mother and father."

Little did Narcissa know both how right and how wrong she was. For down the hall from the library, in the bed of the Dark Lord, Bellatrix slept, content in His embrace. It was the first time He'd allowed this in months, as she fell asleep pretending to herself that He loved her as she loved Him, even though such a thing was impossible. Thus, in the moment, Narcissa's assumption was correct – that the baby's parents were faring better than she and Lucius – but in general, considering the volatile manner of their relationship, the way Bella worshiped Him and He continued to use her, one could certainly argue Nova's parents' situation was worse.

The baby began to fuss, probably hungry or in need of a change, so Narcissa hurried down to the nursery, taking care not to be seen. She summoned the house elf, Squeakers, and asked for a bottle and milk. Unfortunately, cow's milk diluted with water and a teaspoon of sugar would have to do in the moment, though it might give the baby an upset stomach. The readied bottle in hand, she settled into the rocker to feed the infant.

Once baby Nova had been fed and burped and was again dozing off, Narcissa moved into her own bedroom, levitating the bassinet behind her, half-hoping she would find Lucius present upon entering.

But he was not.

And a quick search of his dresser drawers showed that some of his clothing was missing too. As was the carpet bag she'd found in the attic after she threatened to leave him but couldn't find a suitcase. She'd hidden it under the bed in case such a situation arose again.

The wine, which she'd hidden under the sink behind her hair care products, was gone too. Damn it.

Thankfully, her mysterious notebook was still in its drawer, right beside the quill and inkwell. The baby was freshly diapered and peacefully sleeping, as she did for about fourteen non-consecutive hours each day, so Narcissa took the opportunity to write to Severus.

 _My husband is spending the weekend with that slag Juliet at her flat. –NM_

 _He told you this, or it's a suspicion? –SS_

 _He told me after I caught them together in the library. –NM_

 _That must have been upsetting. –SS_

 _Yes it was upsetting! How dare he, right in our own home! – NM_

 _You're joking, right? –SS_

 _No, why? –NM_

 _You're angry because he was with her, or because he was with her right in your own home? –SS_

 _Both, but mostly because they were here. I walked in and saw them. In the library. I was furious. I AM furious. –NM_

 _You're kidding. –SS_

 _No! Why? –NM_

 _My beautiful Narcissa, you know how I feel about you, but I cannot take your side here. –SS_

 _What? Why not? –NM_

 _Because to my knowledge this is the first time Lucius has ever had sex with another woman in Malfoy Manor… –SS_

 _They weren't having sex, they were kissing. –NM_

 _Even better! Then, to my knowledge, he has never had sex with another woman at Malfoy Manor... –SS_

 _So? –NM_

 _But you're furious because he was kissing her? –SS_

 _Yes! –NM_

 _Is that fair?–SS_

 _What do you mean, is that fair? –NM_

 _Narcissa. We've had sex in his house. Multiple times. In the kitchen. In the attic. In the parlor. In your husband's bed – twice. Don't you think it's a tad hypocritical for you to be furious about catching him kissing her in the library considering what we've done in several other rooms? –SS_

Narcissa threw the notebook down on the bed, now almost as furious with Severus as she'd been with Lucius, mostly because she knew he had a point. She pouted for a few seconds but when the notebook burned brightly, clearly indicating she had another message, she was unable to ignore it.

 _I had dinner with Lucius yesterday. He told me he thinks you don't love him anymore. He felt rejected, hurt, and bitter. That's why he's resumed contact with her. –SS_

 _So you think his affair is my fault too? Because I'm so cold? He referred to me as a 'frigid bitch.' Is that what you think of me, Severus? Do you think I'm a frigid bitch? Is that why we haven't seen each other in nearly two weeks? Because I'm too cold for you? –NM_

 _You know very well I don't think that of you and you also know just as well that I would be with you every night were it possible, thus there's no need to pick a fight with me. –SS_

 _I'm sorry, Severus. What else did he say? –NM_

 _He said he thinks the primary problem in your marriage is that you're no good in bed. –SS_

 _He didn't! That bastard! What did you say? –NM_

 _I was honest. I said I highly doubted that was the issue. –SS_

 _How did he respond? –NM_

 _He said I'm correct, that's not the real issue, but he DOES think you're getting worse. –SS_

 _And what did you reply? –NM_

 _I told him he's crazy. You've gotten loads better in the last two years. –SS_

Narcissa gasped and dropped the notebook, knocking over the ink in the process. She grabbed her wand and hurriedly Vanished the mess on the bedspread before writing back.

 _Severus Snape! You didn't! –NM_

 _Of course I didn't. I'm honest, not suicidal. I simply listened long enough to keep my cover as a good friend then tried to change the subject. Rest assured, I have absolutely zero interest in listening to Lucius complain about his sex life with you - though I suppose that's better than if he'd wanted to boast about it. As an aside, when I asked you whether you and your sister ever talk about sex, I didn't expect you to run out and ask her to teach you how it works, but now that you're experienced in the fine art of being choked in bed… when are you free next? –SS_

Narcissa giggled in spite of her desire to remain angry.

 _Sod off you terrible man and keep your dirty hands away from my throat. –NM_

He laughed too, glad to have rerouted the discussion, and hoping it wouldn't come up again.

 _Come on, Narcissa. If you can do it with Bellatrix you can do it with me. What's she got that I don't? Am I not crazy enough for you? I could increase my crazy. Or is it because she looks better in a dress? I'm not above wearing one if it encourages you to be more adventurous during foreplay. –SS_

 _I know you're just teasing me and I can picture you laughing about it. Stop it. Stop laughing. I'm trying to be upset and you're making it difficult. –NM_

 _I'm genuinely sorry that I'm laughing at you, but I can't help it and I will not stop. I am also genuinely sorry that you saw them and that it hurt you. Let me help you forget about it. You said he's gone for the weekend? –SS_

 _Yes. –NM_

 _Isn't your birthday tomorrow? –SS_

 _Don't remind me. I'll be 43. –NM_

He smirked while jotting down his reply.

 _43? I don't believe it. I bet you won't look a day over 42. –SS_

She giggled again. Before him, she'd had no idea how very engaging witty banter could be, nor could she have imagined that it was its own special sort of flirtation, but she loved it.

 _Not a day over 42, eh? I hate you. You think you're so smart. –NM_

 _I think I'm so smart because I am smart. And you don't hate me, you think I'm adorable. This is why you need to learn Occlumency. It's so easy to discern whether you're lying I can do it over parchment. But we'll worry about that later. Regarding tomorrow night: I'll take you out. I have something in mind. Do you think you can get your sister to apparate you off the grounds? Or use Polyjuice Potion? Come to the Shrieking Shack. We can leave from there. 8pm. –SS_

 _I don't know about adorable. That may be a stretch. Attractive? Yes. Handsome? Sure. Arousing? I can't deny it. But adorable? I'm not convinced. –NM_

 _Then I'll have to convince you tomorrow. Wear semi-formal Muggle attire. A cocktail dress, if your sister has one, will suffice. –SS_

 _What's a cocktail dress? –NM_

 _She'll know. I'm sure it's the sort of thing taught in Muggle Studies. –SS_

 _Okay. I'm certain I can manage. –NM_

 _Good. I'm looking forward to it. –SS_

 _As am I. –NM_

They said goodnight shortly thereafter, when the baby began to fuss.

Narcissa slept with the bassinet beside her bed, only having to wake once in the middle of the night to feed, burp, and change the baby. Shortly after sunrise, she awoke to the feeling that someone much bigger than a baby was in her bed. She opened her eyes to see Bellatrix hovering over her, heavy-lidded eyes wide.

"How's my princess?"

"Fine. See for yourself."

Bella peered into the bassinet but did not lift the baby, unwilling to wake her prematurely. "She slept and you fed her?"

"Yes."

"You put her on her back to sleep?"

"She's on her back now, isn't she?"

Bellatrix checked again, just to be sure, and nodded. "You changed her diaper?"

"I did."

"And burped her twice, once in the middle of each feeding, and once right after?"

"Of course."

"And you were careful to support her head and neck whenever she was in your arms?"

"Merlin's beard, I _do_ have _some_ rudimentary knowledge of how babies work, Bella." Narcissa shot her sister a look. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I have in months." Bellatrix sprawled out on her back beside her sister. "Where's your husband?"

"With Juliet at her flat." Narcissa covered her eyes with her forearm to block out the sun streaming through the curtains. It was too bright and too early. But last night had been the first in some time she hadn't had a drop of alcohol before succumbing to sleep, nor had she taken any potions, since she'd been worried about waking if the baby cried.

"That's back on then?"

"Seems to be. I caught them here, fooling around in the library."

"What? What the fuck? How dare she! Right here in your own home?!"

"Right?" Narcissa sat up, suddenly wide awake, glad someone else was aghast at the indignity of it. This was the reaction she'd wanted from Severus. "I mean, it's one thing to know she's screwing him at some apartment I've never seen, but to think she'd be bold enough to throw herself at him here? I have the right to be angry, don't I?"

"Livid! We need to teach her a lesson. Obviously she didn't learn last time."

"To be fair," said Narcissa, lying back down, "Last time we taught her a lesson the lesson was simply, 'don't get pregnant again,' not 'stop seeing my husband.' I told her she could continue sleeping with him if she so desired."

"Yes, yes of course, but not _here!"_ Bellatrix rolled onto her stomach and threw an arm around Narcissa's waist. "Not under the roof you share with your husband! Not while you're right down the hall! Not when it's possible for anybody to catch them together, which would be an insult to you. Fucking a woman's husband in the home the married couple share. It's deplorable. Who even does that? That ruddy twat. That cock-sucking cunt. That painted whore. We need to be sure she knows her place, Cissy, once and for all."

"Yes," agreed Narcissa, even though she knew Severus would not approve. She closed her eyes, hoping for a few more hours of sleep. Bellatrix did the same. Before dozing off, Narcissa whispered, "Let's teach the bitch a lesson."

Without opening her eyes, Bellatrix murmured, "Consider it done."


	36. Narcissa's Birthday, March, 1998

**A/N:** Hi! Sorry for the delay in posting. This chapter is lllloooonnnnggg. It was all mapped out (they all are) but when I actually sat down to write it, I hated it. Thus I rewrote it. Then I scrapped that and rewrote it again. Then edited it. And ended up with this, over 19,000 words covering exactly one day in the life of Narcissa Malfoy. Anyway, this will probably be my last update for this fic until after Chanukah starts and Christmas ends, since I haven't started my shopping for either yet and it's already December 21st. Thankfully the next chapter is already complete (just needs editing) so look for it on December 26th. Thanks for your patience! Happy Holidays! **AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-six – Narcissa's Birthday, 1998**

"It's your birthday, Cissy!" Bellatrix announced over breakfast in the kitchen. No one else was around (save for the Rowles, who were talking about returning home now that the Aurors would be unable to arrest them, thanks to the Dark Lord's complete control over the Ministry) thus it was safe to have the baby downstairs. Rodolphus and Rabastan had already eaten and taken off, destination unknown, and Bellatrix did not know the Dark Lord's plan for the day.

"I'm forty-three," Narcissa said glumly, staring down at the scrambled eggs she'd made, not at all interested in eating. "I'm forty-three and I feel twice that."

"You're still three years and eleven months younger than I am." Bella patted the bottom of baby Nova, who was attached to her via a sling of sorts she'd configured herself from a long, soft scarf. "What do you want to do today? We should go out. I'll take you out for the afternoon. We can leave Nova with that lovesick house elf for a couple of hours between feedings. We'll slip into Muggle London for a couple of extra bottles and some formula, in case I need you to care for her again in the future, then we'll go to Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, window shop, grab an early dinner… It's been two weeks – you realize she'll be two weeks tomorrow? – and I haven't been anywhere in months. I'll treat."

"That would be lovely," said Narcissa, thinking if she could convince her sister to return home without her that would also be a great way to get off the grounds to meet Severus later.

"It's official," said Euphemia, entering the kitchen. "We'll be returning home tomorrow." She looked disappointed, which made little sense to Bellatrix, but Narcissa knew it was due to the fact that Euphemia would now be finding it more difficult to continue her affair with Rodolphus. "We no longer have to hide out."

"That's great," said Bellatrix enthusiastically. "I'm sure you're both relieved."

Euphemia sighed, settled herself at the end of the table, and summoned over a mug and the tea kettle. "Thorfinn says it's overdue. He says I've been worrying for nothing for far too long. The Ministry is under the Dark Lord's control. Thorfinn's ability to get the Taboo in place proves it. He says we could have gone home months ago, but I was too worried."

"Is there anything you need to help you move?" asked Narcissa, hoping not to sound over-eager. "The house elves are at your disposal, of course."

"Thank you." Euphemia sighed again, this time into her mug. The trio sat in silence for several minutes, Bellatrix eating cluelessly, Euphemia sipping somberly, and Narcissa pushing food around her plate with her fork.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed slowly. While Bellatrix was in the nursery giving detailed instructions to Squeakers, Narcissa slipped into her sister's unlocked room to steal a dress. In the wardrobe she found what she hoped was the perfect one – she wasn't sure whether it fit the definition of a 'cocktail dress,' but it was attractive, looked as though it would fit her, and was dressier than the blouses and skirts without being formal. She shrunk it down to the size of a folded handkerchief and shoved it in the pocket of her robes, then hurried back to her own room before she could be caught. A few minutes later, Bellatrix knocked on her door.

"Ready, Cissy? You look nice!"

Narcissa smiled. She was wearing makeup for the first time in nearly a month – since the last time she'd been out with Severus, actually – and her hair was held half-back and braided. Little by little it had gotten darker and darker and she colored out more and more of the blonde, though with it pulled back the light undertones were even more striking. She'd even given herself a manicure – Slytherin green nails, which she'd manage to grow out to be almost as long as her sister's. Her dress was long, plain, and shimmery-white, mostly covered by a moss green fitted witch's robe with a lighter green pattern down the sides. It was one of her most expensive robes, a gift from Lucius during the period she now knew to be when he was cheating on her with her niece, Nymphadora. She fingered the cocktail dress in her pocket, hoping Bella wouldn't realize it was missing, and figuring she could easily transfigure the robe into a Muggle-worthy coat later.

"You look good, too, Bella," said Narcissa genuinely. Bellatrix was wearing her usual black-on-black, a floor-length dress with a corset-style bodice, lower cut than one would typically wear just to go shopping, with sleeves missing material in the shoulders and in between the cords tying the arms. She had lost quite a bit of weight post-baby already, but it was distributed different than it used to be – her chest was noticeably bigger, thanks to the breastfeeding, and she had what she bitterly referred to as a "Nova-induced kangaroo pouch" in her lower midsection that didn't seem to be disappearing despite her efforts to eat well and keep active. Bellatrix placed her hand on it now, trying to suck her stomach in, and looked nervously to her younger sister.

"Do you think… will anyone be able to tell, you know?"

"Hardly anyone has seen you in sixteen years. Those who saw you after Azkaban will think you've gained weight because you're no longer starving, those who knew you before will think you look as attractive as you did then, and those who only recognize you from your Wanted posters will think this is an improvement… if they're not too terrified to look upon you at all. You've got quite the reputation among both our friends and our enemies."

"Don't be silly, Cissy," said Bella, who tugged her sister's braid affectionately. "We haven't got have any friends."

Narcissa giggled. "Alright then. Among our enemies and our non-enemies. More accurate?"

"I'm not even sure which people we know could fit into the category 'non-enemies.' I'm not as popular in adulthood as I was at Hogwarts."

"The lack of sleep post-baby must be making you delusional. You weren't popular at Hogwarts either."

Bella stuck her tongue out at her, but her eyes sparkled with good-humor. "I was too popular. Winifred was my friend and Zillah followed me around like an affection-starved puppy, and our three other bunkmates, Vivienne, Liesl, and Piper, they treated me like I was Queen of the Dormitory. Girls in the younger years both admired and reviled me and the Slytherin boys all wanted me to suck them off."

"That's vulgar," chastised Narcissa, following her sister down the hall. "You ought to clean up your language before that baby of yours learns to babble."

"Why?" Bella flashed her sister a grin. "Are you afraid she'll use her first words to call her uncle Lucius a tosser?"

"Always a class act, Bellatrix," said Rodolphus, entering the hall from his bedroom. "Headed out?"

"I have permission!" Bellatrix snapped defensively, poking her wand in his direction. Her husband held his hands up as if in surrender. "Where are you going? I thought you left already?"

"I did leave already. Now I'm back and leaving again, this time overnight. The Dark Lord is sending Rabastan and I out to do the work of Snatchers, because apparently He's losing faith in them. He'd hoped to have found Potter by now."

"I know what He hopes," Bellatrix replied testily. "And it's 'Rabastan and me,' not 'Rabastan and I.'"

"Thanks so much, dear," he said sarcastically. He looked to Narcissa. "Aren't you eternally grateful that my wife's here to correct everyone's grammar? Whatever would the Dark Lord do without His most faithful and loyal English professor?"

Bellatrix flipped him the two finger salute, grabbed Narcissa by the wrist and pulled her to the stairs. They hurried down to the first floor and out the door without another word. Once at the apparition point, Bella took Narcissa's hands and apologized to her.

"For what?"

"It's not fair that you can't come and go like the rest of us. Only you and Wormtail are stuck. Everyone else has received the Dark Mark."

"Even Euphemia?"

"Even Euphemia."

"What about Juliet?"

"Juliet too."

Narcissa sighed. "If not being able to apparate to or from my own home is the price I must pay to avoid having the image of a snake and skull burned into my skin, I suppose it's worth the inconvenience."

"Is it, though? You could ask Him, Cissy. You could ask Him to brand you. It doesn't mean you have to become a member of His inner circle. Euphemia's barely peripheral. You might not have to kill anyone."

"Might not?"

"Probably might not."

"Probably might not?"

Bellatrix grimaced. "Okay… you probably might not have to kill anyone you'd feel bad about killing, how's that?"

"I'm fine, thanks. The Dark Lord thinks I'm useless and He's right. I couldn't kill anyone. I couldn't even curse anyone. Not really. Not significantly. I wouldn't know how. I'm weak. I've always been weak. You know that. Let's just go?"

"Okay," said Bellatrix, looking somewhat disappointed. She gripped Cissy's hands more tightly, closed her eyes, and apparated.

They were in Knockturn Alley but didn't remain there. It was after three and neither had eaten lunch, so they headed to Dovelings, where Lucius had recently taken Narcissa. Though she'd felt uncomfortable the last time she'd been there with her husband, it was actually one of her favorite restaurants, and even during and after the First War, it had always been relatively Death Eater friendly. The proprietors, Ichabod and Isobel Dovelings, were an elderly married couple, and firm believers in the importance of blood purity. It was rumored they'd even supported Grindelwald at the height of his power, and Ichobod's eldest brother was one of many Nurmengard guards arrested and subsequently imprisoned there after Grindelwald's defeat by Dumbledore.

Ichobod Dovelings himself hurried over to take their order, even though it had been decades since he manned the dining room or kitchen, technically speaking. He was, however, always present, and frequently insisted upon taking the place of his waitstaff when the more important customers were in attendance. When she'd dined at Dovelings with Lucius, Ichobod had merely come to say hello while they were eating, adding credence to her husband's claims that he'd largely fallen out of favor with the entire wizarding community, but apparently Bellatrix, despite her lengthy stint in Azkaban, was not to suffer the same fate.

"Bellatrix Black Lestrange!" The tiny wizard clapped his hands together, then took one of Bella's in his and shook it, looking pleased as punch. "So many years I have not seen you, but I would recognize those eyes anywhere. I remember you as a girl, when you'd come in with your mother and father. Such wonderful people."

"Yes," said Bellatrix, arrogantly but not without warmth. "My father was a wonderful person."

"You'd sit on my knee and tell me tall tales of magical adventures you'd claimed to have had, always casting yourself as the heroine. What imagination! Isobel! Isobel, get over here!"

His wife, who was even tinier and plumper than he, waddled over, adjusting her spectacles. "What is it, Icobod?"

"Look! Look who it is! Little Bellatrix Black."

"I'm not exactly little anymore," Bella pointed out. "I'm a month away from forty-seven."

"Still little to me!" he said. Both Bella and Narcissa rolled their eyes, but the tiny couple didn't notice. Now Isobel was clutching Bellatrix's hand.

"My dear girl! A more precocious child I've never seen. Where have you been?" The white-haired woman dropped her voice and leaned in close. "We know, of course, about your unfortunate imprisonment, but we read the news of your breakout over two years ago, and ever since the second rise of You-Know-Who since then, we've wondered whether we'd see you again. _When_ we'd see you again."

"I wish I could've come by sooner," said Bellatrix, clearly loving this attention. "But I've been kept very busy with my work for the Dark Lord. He regards me very highly. As you are no doubt aware, I was one of few who refused to renounce Him after the fall. I alone knew He would rise again."

"If only we had known," said Ichobod, looking forlorn. "We'd hoped, of course we'd hoped, but…"

"It's lovely to see you again, dear," said Isobel, cutting him off and glancing nervously around the restaurant, clearly afraid there could be Aurors or Order members nearby. "And your sister. Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy." Isobel had delighted in calling the youngest Black sister "Mrs. Malfoy" ever since she got married, as the name was one of significantly elevated status… until recently.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Dovelings," said Narcissa politely.

"What will you have?" asked Ichobod, pulling out his wand to jot the order into the air and hover it to the kitchen. "The special today is lamb chops and the soup is French onion. You always liked my French onion soup."

"You make the best French onion soup," said Bellatrix and Ichobod beamed in response. "But today I'll have the Dorset blue lobster tail and a baked potato. I've been craving shellfish for months but I couldn't have it because I was pr– ouch!"

Narcissa had kicked her sister in the shin under the table.

"You couldn't have shellfish because you were what, dear?" asked Isobel. Bellatrix and Narcissa exchanged a glance.

"I wasn't hungry," Bellatrix covered. "Though now I am."

Narcissa fought the urge to roll her eyes. She knew she wasn't adept at making up a story on the spot (the conversation with the American couple at the play showed her that much) but she'd assumed her sister would be a pro at it. Or, at the very least, not terrible.

"And you, dear?" asked Icobod.

"I'll have the lamb chops," answered Narcissa. "Also with a potato."

"Very good, very good!" said Ichobod. He sent the order to the kitchen, but followed after the floating words, calling, "I need the best lobster!"

"That silly man," said Isobel, rolling her eyes. "He didn't even ask what you want to drink. Eduardo!" She beckoned over a good-looking young waiter with dark hair slicked back into a low ponytail. Narcissa noticed that Bellatrix looked him over appraisingly, seemingly impressed by his physique. "This is Mrs. Lestrange and her sister, Mrs. Malfoy. You will be their waiter. Take good care of them. We've known Miss Bellatrix since she was a toddler. Forty-five years this summer. Seems like yesterday."

"Bellatrix Lestrange?" Eduardo asked. His eyes widened as he looked over Bella as she had him. Clearly the attraction was mutual."I've heard of you."

"Whatever you've heard, it's probably true," she said. "My sister will have a glass of your most expensive red wine…"

"Pinot Noir," interjected Narcissa. "I'll have Pinot Noir."

"And I want a glass of something that will pair nicely with lobster."

"May I recommend a white burgundy?" asked Eduardo.

Bellatrix smiled flirtatiously. "You may. That's what I'll have. Also, it's my sister's birthday, Eduardo, so be extra nice to her."

"Your birthday!" Ichobod, returning to their table, took Narcissa's hand, almost as if he'd just realized she was there too. "Happiest of birthdays, Mrs. Malfoy. I remember you as a little girl too. You only came in once or twice before your father died, because he was sick so long. Terribly quiet you were at his funeral, hugging that stuffed animal. Was it a bear?"

"A bunny," said Narcissa automatically. She shook her head. "I think, I mean, I don't know. I can't remember. It was a long time ago."

"A bunny, of course!" said Isobel. "I'll never forget it. Andromeda crying, Bella putting on her brave face, and little Cissy, hugging that bunny for dear life."

"Isobel! Please! She doesn't want to remember her father's funeral on her birthday!" scolded Ichobod.

Isobel glared at him. "You brought it up!"

"I'll get your drinks," said Eduardo. With one last look up and down Bellatrix, he hurried away.

"Well, we'll leave you to enjoy lunch," said Isobel, taking her husband by the arm. "Happy to have you back, Mrs. Lestrange."

At the sound of her name, several other restaurant patrons glanced over before leaning closer to their dining companions to discuss her presence in hushed tones.

"They're too much," said Bellatrix, once the couple had left them alone and the staring had ceased. "We came here for dinner at least once a week when I was small, before Father got sick. You probably don't remember."

"I don't," admitted Narcissa. "I don't have many positive childhood memories. It seems that the bad sticks so much better than the good."

"That's because you were a baby for all the good ones. But let's talk about something else. As Mrs. Dovelings said, we don't want to think about Father's funeral on your birthday."

"You ordered lobster," said Narcissa. "You're still craving seafood even after that secret crab I snuck you?"

"Yes. And I ordered wine because I thought it would seem juvenile to get anything else, but honestly, I'd rather have a cold butterbeer and I have no idea what whatever I ordered will even taste like. Adulthood rots."

Narcissa giggled. "You'll like it. And if you don't, pretend. That's what grownups do."

The rest of their meal was pleasant. They spoke no more about Father, Mother, or even the Dark Lord, and it was easy for Narcissa to forget all the years that had passed since she'd last been to Dovelings for lunch with her sister, though she couldn't help feeling a pang remembering how she'd come here with both Bellatrix and Andromeda every year when they went to Diagon Alley with Mother to do the Hogwarts shopping, before Bella started insisting upon doing it all herself with a friend instead, leaving her younger sisters at home with Mother and Stepfather, which Narcissa always thought was a selfish thing to do. Thankfully it only lasted a couple of years, then Stepfather was murdered, and later Andromeda was disowned, and for her last year at Hogwarts, Narcissa shopped alone and ate lunch there only out of habit, feeling terrible lonely.

After Bellatrix paid (she insisted her sister should not contribute, being it was her birthday) they wandered around Horizont Alley, Diagon Alley, and Knockturn Alley, going into many of their favorite shops, but not buying anything save for a couple of Chocolate Frogs Bellatrix wanted to bring back for her daughter.

"It's never too early to start a child's Chocolate Frog card collection," Bellatrix had said to justify buying candy for a two week old. She opened one to eat it right away. "Ew, Dumbledore. The Dark Lord should take charge and make them print new cards." She gasped, stopped walking, and grabbed Narcissa by the arm. "Do you think _I_ could be on a card, Cissy? I should ask the Dark Lord if I can be on a Chocolate Frog card!"

"I'm certain that'll be His top priority," replied Narcissa sarcastically. Bella made a face at her. "Are you going to bring the Dumbledore home for her?"

"I suppose." Bellatrix slipped it into her pocket. "As soon as she can sit up properly I'll buy her a toy wand and she can use it to pretend to fire hexes at him, like target practice. I had a play wand as a child. I used to make believe I was the daughter of Grindelwald, sent to avenge his death, and in doing so I'd end up taking control of the entire wizarding world."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, Bella, but I don't believe he's dead."

"He's not. But that's what I used to pretend. I'd also sometimes pretend that I went back to 1945 using a secret Time Turner and I'd warn him about Dumbledore coming, and then together we'd wait for him, and defeat him, and then go on to rule the wizarding world togeth… why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm batshit crazy."

"I simply never knew this about you, that's all. By the time I was old enough to develop an imagination, the only make believe scenarios I could come up with were terrifying."

Bellatrix was distracted, though, and didn't hear what her sister had said.

"Is that Rodolphus? Over there…?"

They had wandered back into Knockturn Alley, which was dimly lit even in the brightness of the late afternoon. At the far end, just beyond the door to the last shop, stood a couple, holding hands, leaning close to each other. The man whispered something in the woman's ear, placed his hand on her lower back, and she laughed. Though they were not kissing, or anything of that nature, they were clearly a couple. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "That _is_ my husband… and Euphemia Rowle!" She lifted her wand and without a word sent a stinging hex in their direction, which thankfully missed all passers by, but, unfortunately for him, got Rodolphus squarely in the left shoulder.

Bellatrix apparated from where she stood beside her sister, appearing directly beside her husband. Narcissa did the same, but reappeared a few feet away, unwilling to put herself in the middle of a fight.

"I doubt Euphemia is Potter in disguise, _dear_ , so I can't for the life of me figure out why you're here with her instead of off in the woods somewhere tracking the boy with the other Snatchers."

"I don't have to set out for that assignment until sundown," said Rodolphus. "Thought I deserved a little fun first."

Euphemia, on the other hand, looked scared. "Please don't tell Thorfinn. We weren't doing anything, I swear!"

"I'll do much worse than tell your husband!" sneered Bellatrix furiously. "Fucking around on me? In broad daylight? You'll be lucky to make it back to Thorfinn alive! And you!" She turned back to her husband. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You're going to be sore at me for cheating on you?" Rodolphus laughed. "That's rich."

"I've never lied to you, you cowardly bastard! If you were going to go around shagging some ugly housewife, you could have told me."

"Seems a bit hypocritical, doesn't it, to be upset, considering all the many men you've been with since you got married?" asked Euphemia, who immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified by her own words. Bellatrix rounded on her, lifting her wand, clearly about to curse her, but Narcissa intervened. She waved her wand in her sister's face, saying, "Obliviate." Bella's eyes went blank and unfocused.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Cissy?"

"We've just run into Rodolphus," said Narcissa, her voice low. "He's been looking for you. Nova needs you."

"My baby?" Subconsciously, Bellatrix placed her hands on her chest, remembering that it had been awhile since she last nursed the newborn, and suddenly feeling physically uncomfortable. "I have to feed her."

"You should go," said Narcissa, taking hold of Bella's wrists and moving her hands down. "I've had a lovely afternoon with you – thank you for making my birthday a happy one, all things considered… but your little one needs her mummy."

"But Cissy… We didn't… We never went into Muggle London to buy, you know…"

"Bottles and formula? I know. It's okay. I'll pick up what we need, then Euphemia can apparate me back onto the grounds later, before she moves the rest of her belonging back to her home. But you should go. It's okay."

"I… Okay." Bellatrix still looked confused, but she nodded. "Come along, Rodolphus. You can apparate me home, can't you, dear? I… I feel dizzy."

"Uh…" He glanced first at Narcissa, then Euphemia, then at his wife. "Fine."

They disapparated with a Pop.

"Why did you do that?" asked Euphemia, looking over Narcissa with suspicion. Narcissa had to think fast. What excuse could she give the woman? She went with the first thing that came to mind.

"We didn't, you know."

"Didn't what?"

"Kill your friend, Endora Selwyn. Neither my sister nor I was responsible for her death. I know you believe otherwise and I doubt anything I say can convince you, but I've been meaning to speak with you about it for months. I put it off so things wouldn't be awkward around Malfoy Manor, but now that you're leaving… I hated Endora for what she tried to do, don't misunderstand, I hated her and I wasn't sorry when she died, but I didn't kill her, and neither did Bellatrix. She would've liked to, I'm sure, but she was locked up, and trust me, if she'd managed to get out for any length of time she would not have gone back, not under any circumstances. Your friend committed suicide. She was devastated by my husband's rejection and she hung herself to punish him – to punish us – for hurting her. That's the truth."

Euphemia wrung her hands anxiously, clearly wondering how Narcissa knew about her suspicions, and unable to formulate a response.

"When you return to Malfoy Manor, inform Bella that I've decided to go to Hogsmeade to see Draco and that I'll bring the baby stuff with me when I return. And you should probably stay away from my sister's husband. She doesn't like him much, but she also doesn't like to share, and she especially doesn't like it when people take what's hers, or when she feels people are keeping secrets from her."

"Tell me one thing," requested Euphemia, finding her voice again. "The baby's father… is it Rodolphus?"

"I honestly can't say," said Narcissa. "She told me no, but he told Lucius yes. I'm not sure whether either of them really know. Does it matter?"

"No," said Euphemia. "I suppose it doesn't."

Narcissa began to walk away, but turned back. "One last bit of advice… I wouldn't recommend trying to Obliviate my sister as I just did. She's a superb Legilimens. If you, or anyone else, were to try that with her, she'd know. And she'd kill you."

"Duly noted," said Euphemia, still looking shaken. Narcissa strode away haughtily, head held high, and hurried toward the Leaky Cauldron, stopping only briefly in the apothecary for much needed supplies so she could brew more Dreamless Sleep, 10 Hour Sedatives, the birth control potion… and even another batch of Amortentia, since Severus apparently Vanished hers the night he found her drunk in the attic, and she couldn't remember what it had smelled liked.

She went through the Leaky Cauldron to get from Diagon Alley to the Muggle world, where she navigated herself to one of the shops where she'd previously purchased hair color. She did a decent enough job of handling Muggle money (the trick was to give them far more than the item could possibly cost, then trust that they'd passed back the correct change). She picked up three glass bottles, new lipstick (dark red), and a box of formula to have for emergency purposes, so she'd never again have to dilute and sweeten cow's milk should she find herself caring for the baby for a few hours. Once her items were purchased, she returned to the Leaky Cauldron. From the area behind it, where she could cross into Diagon Alley, she instead disapparated, reappearing behind the bookshop in Hogsmeade.

It was still only 6:58, which meant she had over an hour to kill. It was unfortunate she and her sister hadn't run into Rodolphus and Euphemia an hour later, but such is life. She went into Gladrags Wizardwear, seeking a handsome new robe for Lucius (for the first time truly understanding why he bought her so many gifts when he was cheating… guilt was a powerful emotion). Next she wandered around Honeydukes, where she picked up peanut butter fudge and salted caramel chocolate quills for Draco. At 7:51 she rushed to the post office, glad it was open late on Saturdays, so she could Owl the baby stuff and Lucius' new robe to Malfoy Manor and the sweets to Hogwarts before meeting Severus.

It was there that she overheard two familiar voices chatting in the back.

Mr. Perchik and Mr. Bagnold. She couldn't recall their first names. They were the two young men she'd met at the Hog's Head on Severus' 37th birthday, the two men Juliet had later assured the Dark Lord would be willing to work for Him. She wondered whether they'd made good on that – Death Eaters, thanks to their separate circles and masks, didn't all know each other, contrary to popular belief. The Dark Lord had done this on purpose during the First War to insure anonymity, especially in the event that certain witches or wizards were captured and tortured for information. They couldn't snitch if they didn't know each other's identities. It was only within His inner circle that they frequently removed their masks, attended meetings like those at Malfoy Manor, and, from the early '70s through the Dark Lord's fall, got together for social occasions unrelated to their work for Him.

"Yeah, I went in there the other day! It's all beat up, lots of dust and mold, looks like a wild animal was caged upstairs. Teeth marks all over. Like werewolves have been there."

"When I was at Hogwarts, we tried I can't tell you how many times to break in, but it was impossible!"

"Not impossible now! The door opens right up with an Alohamora."

"They say it's the most haunted dwelling in all of…"

"I don't know, mate. I didn't hear or see a single ghost. Just creepy teeth marks, overturned and broken furniture, and the brooch."

"The what?"

"I found it on the floor under the couch. Looks expensive. I'll show you; I gave it to the missus. I'll have her wear it when we meet for brunch tomorrow. It's silver with these emeralds and rubies. Had it appraised. They're real. Must have cost a fortune."

Narcissa's eyes widened. She had a silver brooch adorned with emeralds and rubies.

As he went on to describe it to his coworker, she became even more convinced it was the one she'd purchased the day she went to Spinner's End for the first time after entering into her affair with Severus. She'd later worn it Christmas Eve, 1996, and had gone looking for it just yesterday, intending to wear it again on her birthday, but it was missing.

What had she done with it?

She had put it in her pocket. Her coat pocket.

She wore her coat the night it snowed. January 9, 1997.

Severus' birthday.

The night they slept together in the Shrieking Shack.

Had she seen the brooch since then?

That was over a year ago.

Over a year ago.

 _Had she seen it since then?_

She certainly couldn't remember seeing it since then.

Shit. _Shit._

She'd lost her brooch at the Shrieking Shack.

And this dunderhead found it.

"Shit!"

"Hullo?" called the one who'd said he'd given the brooch to his wife. That had to be Bagnold. "Someone there?"

"I need to mail two things," said Narcissa.

"It'll have to wait until Monday," he said, coming out from the back, an Owl perched on his forearm. "We're closed. It's after eight."

"It is not yet eight," she replied, standing up straighter, presenting herself the way the world apparently saw her - haughty, demanding, and entitled. She placed baby stuff, the boxed robe, and Draco's confectionaries on the counter. "I demand you send them tonight."

"Mrs. Malfoy," said Bagnold, recognizing her. "My apologies. I'll see to that right away."

"I knew you would," she said. "I've already written the addresses. Here…" She fished a galleon from her pocket and placed it on the counter. "Keep the change. I want them to arrive by Monday morning at the latest, though there's no reason the one headed to Hogwarts shouldn't be there tomorrow."

"Yes, yes of course," he said. "Right away, Mrs. Malfoy."

She nodded, as standoffish and snooty as she'd been prior to her husband's public humiliation. This was the air about her that gave others the impression she was a snob, but it was a role she played, like the actors in the plays and movies Severus likes so much.

"Very well," she said with no intention to add a thank you. "See to it, then."

She turned on her heel and exited.

It was now six minutes to eight. She headed directly for the Shrieking Shack, trying to curb the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was no way they'd ever figure out that the brooch had been hers, thus there was nothing to worry about… right?

When she arrived, he was already standing in the doorway. The sight of him, handsome in his Muggle attire, distracted her momentarily. She froze.

"Evening," he said, almost tentatively, as if he'd been afraid she wouldn't show.

"Are you early or am I late?" she asked.

"Both," he answered.

She glanced around to be sure they were alone then kissed him quickly, tenderly. "Where are we going? I still have to change."

"Come in." He backed up and she entered the Shrieking Shack, which reminded her of the conversation she'd overheard. He closed the door and she relayed it to him as she changed. He noticed that she did not ask him to turn away or avoid looking at her, though she seemed adept at taking one dress off and putting another on without revealing much skin. Still, the level of comfort both made him smile and scared him a little.

"It used to be that the Shrieking Shack was only accessible through a secret passage, the entrance of which is under the Whomping Willow's base, but I suppose when I managed to open the door from inside I must have damaged the protective measures around the Shack. It is most unfortunate that they found your brooch as the only way to get it back would be to admit it's yours, which would surely raise suspicions."

"I know. Zip me?" She turned her back to him. He took two steps closer to her and zipped up the back of the black dress, then, unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed his lips to her shoulder. She reached her right hand up, sliding it under his hair against the back of his neck, and guided him into a kiss. His left hand snaked up her torso to her breast.

"I'm wearing a padded bra, if you must know," she said in a teasing tone. "Otherwise I wouldn't be able to fill out this dress."

He laughed, stepped back, and turned her to face him.

"You're beautiful with or without your padded bra," he assured her. "Shall we depart?"

"In just one moment…" She removed the red lipstick from her robe pocket, applied it, put the robe on, then transfigured it into a stylish Muggle style coat. "Now I'm ready."

They apparated to an alleyway in a relatively empty area that was completely unknown to Narcissa. They were somewhere in London, she surmised, based on the dialect of those around them once they'd walked to a more populated street.

The restaurant was intimate and dimly lit, with candles on each table. In the center of the room was a shiny dance floor, occupied by half a dozen couples, and to one side on a slightly raised stage, a live band. They had a reservation thus were seated right away, even though there was a line of potential customers waiting by the door.

"Popular place," said Narcissa, once they'd placed their drink order.

"It's reminiscent of the '30s, when jazz came to Britain," explained Severus. "Jazz was considered somewhat scandalous at the time." They'd never had a conversation about this before. Music was one of those things that seemed to link Magic and Muggles together, mostly because there were so few pop stars in their world and so many Muggle-born witches and wizards who delighted in sharing their favorite recording artists with their new friends at Hogwarts (mostly by singing their songs, since Muggle technology does not work on school grounds). "Are you familiar with jazz? Or other Muggle music? Or with any music in general?"

"Not really. My sisters liked the Hobgoblins but Mother hated them. Especially after that one song came out in the sixties, 'Making Magic with my Muggle,' the one about falling for a Mudblood girl… sorry…" She winced upon realizing the slur had slipped out in his presence for the first time since she'd learned of his affection toward Lily. "Anyway, I was only seven or eight and didn't understand the lyrics, but Andromeda and Bellatrix sang it over and over again into their hairbrushes until Mother decided music was dangerous for developing minds so we weren't allowed to listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network anymore. Draco likes the Weird Sisters though, and a girl group called Spellbound. He has a poster…" She shuddered. "They don't wear enough clothing."

Severus laughed. "You really have lived a sheltered life, haven't you?"

"I have not!" Narcissa insisted indignantly, but after avoiding his eye for a few moments, she conceded. "Do you mean because I haven't listened to much music or because I think the Spellbound singers don't wear enough clothing?"

"Both. But it's okay." He took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back. "I like you sheltered."

They talked pleasantly over dinner, carefully avoiding mentioning Lucius and Juliet, Draco's recent trouble at Hogwarts, the hunt for Harry Potter, or any other potentially uncomfortable subjects. She did, however, tell him about her night alone with the baby in great detail.

"Her fingernails are so teeny, like specks of dust. My son was never that small. Literally. He was born twice her size. She has the longest eyelashes of any newborn, too. I remember when Draco's friend Vincent was a baby – he had long eyelashes. Very pretty, especially for a boy. But they're nothing compared to Nova's. It felt nice to hold a baby again."

After they were through eating, Narcissa assumed they would pay the bill and leave, but Severus had another idea.

"Dance? With you? You're kidding!" Narcissa blushed, shaking her head. "I can't dance! I haven't the faintest idea how!"

"It's easy," Severus assured her. He stood and took her hand. "I'll teach you."

"Are you a good dancer?"

"No."

She giggled. "Then how shall you teach me?"

"I can teach anything," he assured her. "That's why they call me Headmaster."

Despite her reservations, Narcissa allowed herself to be led to the edge of the dance floor. More couples were out now, swaying gently to the music. Copying the form most of them had taken, Severus put on hand on Narcissa's waist and joined hands with her with the other. They began to move, just barely at first.

"See? It's not so bad," he said, his lips close to her ear, which gave her a chill (the good kind). "Now, step back when I step forward…"

"What if I stumble?"

"I'll steady you."

"What if can't be steadied and I fall?"

"I'll catch you."

"What if I stay upright but can't remember any of the steps?"

"I'll put you under the Imperius Curse so you won't embarrass us."

She swatted his arm, giggling. His eyes were twinkling in that way she loved, the way he insisted they did not, the way even the portrait of Dilys Derwent recognized.

"It's not about remembering the steps, Narcissa. It's about feeling the music and trusting your partner. Do you trust me?"

Her gray eyes met his dark ones and it gave her a second (good) chill to see the sincerity there.

"I trust you."

With his hand still firmly on her waist and her arm around him, their opposite hands clasped together, he began to guide her. When that song ended, a faster one began, and he took the opportunity to teach her a basic foxtrot.

"Walk back with your right, slower, good, then back with the left. Quick side step to the right, bring the left to the right… Let's put them together… back, back, side, close. Slow, slow, quick, quick… Good!"

She wasn't exactly a natural but she picked it up well enough to get by and by the end of the next song, no one would have guessed they'd never danced together before. Then the band launched into a slower song so Severus pulled her closer, his arm around her waist, their upper bodies touching.

"Where did you learn to dance?" she whispered, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

"I don't know that you want to know."

"I do want to know. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

He sighed, hugged her even closer, and closed his eyes.

"Lily," he murmured finally. "She took ballroom dancing lessons from about six or seven years old until we went to Hogwarts. Before she met me, she used to make her sister practice with her, but…"

"But she found you a more suitable partner?"

"I suppose so."

"I think that's sweet," said Narcissa. "I bet you were an adorable child, ballroom dancing around your bedroom."

"We didn't ballroom dance around my bedroom," he interjected, but she ignored him.

"I can picture you in a little suit, like the Muggles in that cinema movie film, foxtrapping…"

"It's a foxtrot, not a fox trap."

"Foxtrotting around the playground, with your red-headed girlfriend while all the other little children watched jealously."

"That never happened either." He tightened his grip around her, as if afraid she'd disappear. "She was not my girlfriend, and no other child ever looked upon me with jealousy."

"Were you sweet on her even then, before you went to Hogwarts?"

He couldn't talk about Lily. Not now. Not with her. Not while dancing.

"It's okay," whispered Narcissa. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "You don't have to hide from me."

He opened his eyes, looked down at the woman in his arms, and felt perhaps more conflicted about his feelings for her than he had about anyone or anything else in his adult life, save, perhaps, for his personal views on Harry Potter (son of his greatest love and worst enemy, whose personality was a clear combination of the two).

"I still fantasize about you," he said, his mouth a breath away from her ear. "But my fantasies have changed."

"How so?" she whispered.

"I used to think about seeing you naked or fucking you in the shower…"

Her face flushed, going from pale to pink in a flash. "And now?"

"And now I think about sharing with you the parts of my life I've kept hidden from others, like theatre. I think about making you smile, making you laugh. I think about…" His voice trailed off.

"About?" She prompted, hardly able to breathe.

"About falling asleep with you in my arms. About waking up with you in the morning. About what it would be like not to have to hide at all."

She slipped her hand gently from his, brought it up to cup his face, and guided him to her. Their lips parted just slightly as they kissed. Then she pulled away hesitantly, tilting her chin down, looking up at him the way he found so endearing, eyes full of questions. This separation lasted only a fraction of a second. He pressed his lips to hers, quickly deepening their kiss as the slow song ended and a faster one began.

Suddenly, from the pit of her belly, she was overwhelmed by the feeling of butterflies flittering their wings wildly, as if they'd just-emerged from a cocoon, which traveled up though her chest, filling her with an urgent need to be fulfilled by him.

He, too, was overcome by an innate sensation, a spark, which, as he'd previously realized, felt much like finding his perfect wand at Ollivander's at age eleven, though it was stronger this time, more intense than he'd previously experienced.

He hugged both of his arms around her waist as she brought her free hand up to his other cheek and they kissed again. This kiss was unlike any they'd shared before. There was the feeling of slight hesitation from their very first kiss, mixed with the passion of the many that followed, plus the immediacy and desire that went with their makeout session in the kitchen the night the baby was born, and a tenderness neither had known with another, all balled together and expressed through a sensual kiss in the style of of Shakespearean lovers.

When they parted again, she bit her lip, gazing up at him.

"You felt it?" she asked, voice still a whisper, even though the music had gotten louder and couples all around them were quick-stepping, thus whispering was unnecessary.

"Spend the night with me," he answered, which she understood to be his way of giving confirmation. "I am required to return to Hogwarts, hopefully before anyone discovers I've gone, but you can… but it's late. I'll bring you into the castle. You can sleep in my chambers. No one will know. Narcissa… this is not enough. I need to be with you."

"I want that," she said, clasping her hands at the back of his neck under his hair. "I want you."

He kissed her again, briefly this time, then led her to their table to pay and collect their coats. Once outside, the walked as briskly as possible without arousing suspicion until they reached an alleyway where it was safe to apparate. They reappeared as close to Hogwarts grounds as was possible and, hand in hand, made their way toward the castle. They were all the way to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest beyond Hagrid's Hut when Severus spotted three figures in the distance, heading their way.

"Quick," he whispered. "Into the forest."

She hurried into the thick of the trees and he was about to follow, but a voice called, "Severus? Is that you?"

"Damn it," Severus swore under his breath. He looked to Narcissa and even without Legilimency, she knew he wanted her to remain hidden. She nodded.

"It is I!" Severus called. "Septima?"

Narcissa's eyes widened. One of the three figures was Septima Vector, Severus' 'friend,' the woman he'd been sleeping with off and on since the early '80s! Narcissa hadn't seen her since she was a student at Hogwarts and barely remembered what she looked like. Of course, since it was dark, she wouldn't be able to make out her features well this evening either, but she was intrigued.

"You're out late," said a second voice, also belonging to a woman. She was of average height and slender, with dark skin, royal purple hair pulled into a bun, and an orange witch's hat in the style Muggle children wear on Halloween. Narcissa didn't recognize her.

"As are you, Aurora."

"It's the third Saturday of the month," Aurora replied. Narcissa realized she must be Professor Aurora Sinistra, teacher of astronomy. "It's our regular night out."

"He knows," said Septima Vector. She, too, was wearing a hat, but it was brick red, with long red robes to match. She was pale (though not as pale as Severus), and slightly shorter than Professor Sinistra, with long, straight black hair, and though she was heavier than Narcissa by a decent amount, she was well-proportioned, not overweight. Unable to help herself, Narcissa glared at her.

"Is someone with you?" asked Septima Vector. "I feel like I'm being watched."

"Oh, quit being paranoid," said the third witch, whose gray hair was cropped short and spiky. Her hawk-like eyes darted toward the woods. "You always feel like you're being watched, Septima. Come on, let's be off. Pomona left the castle a half hour ago. If we take too long to follow she'll be tipsy before we even get there." Narcissa wasn't certain, but from what Draco had told her, she assumed this was Madam Hooch, the flying instructor and Quidditch referee.

"Is she alone?" asked Severus, figuring, as Headmaster, he should at least pretend to care about which of his staff had left the castle to visit the pub.

"No," said Professor Sinistra. "Wilhelmina is with her."

"Not Minerva?" Sneaking Narcissa in would be considerably easier if he didn't have to worry about running into McGonagall, who always seemed to know who was in the castle and where, even without the benefit of the Maurader's Map Black and Potter's gang created so long ago.

"Minerva won't come with us anymore," said Professor Sinistra. "Not since you murder… er… I mean, not since Dumbledore… unexpectedly passed away."

"Minerva doesn't trust you to run the school and protect the students," Septima Vector said matter-of-factly. "I told her not to worry, that you could manage a few hours alone, but I didn't know you'd be out. Again."

"Well, I've returned now," he said. "Enjoy your Girls' Night."

"We're too old to call it a Girls' Night," said Madam Hooch. "Call it our monthly coven. That's what a gathering of witches is."

"Shouldn't there be thirteen of you to make it a coven?" asked Severus.

"There aren't enough of us for that these days," said Septima Vector. "Minerva refuses to leave Hogwarts, Bathsheda doesn't drink, Trelawney drinks too much, Cleo's getting old, Irma's already old, Poppy's got kids in the infirmary, Charity's dead, and none of us like Alecto Carrow."

"Charity's dead?" asked Profesor Sinistra, clearly shocked. "I thought she was missing?"

"She…" Septima and Severus exchanged a look, which made Narcissa wonder if he'd told her about the Dark Lord's snake devouring the Muggle Studies teacher. "Of course she's dead," said Septima. "She wouldn't still be missing if she weren't dead. Besides, nobody lives long once You-Know-Who is set to kill them. Right, Severus?"

"Seems like a fair assessment," he said in a monotone. "Good evening, then."

"We will," said Madam Hooch. She tugged on Sinistra's sleeve. "Let's go. The later it gets, the drunker Pomona will be before we arrive, and she owes me money. I want to get paid before the puffy little mandrake spends it all on spiked gigglewater."

Once Severus was confident the women were far enough away, he flew to Narcissa's side in the woods.

Literally.

"Merlin's beard! You can fly?"

"I can," he said. He looped his arm through hers. "It's safe to continue to the castle now. Sorry we had to chat. I didn't want them to get suspicious."

"You can fly!" Narcissa said again. "You can fly without a broom! How did you learn that? I've never seen anyone… never even heard of anyone… save for…"

"The Dark Lord taught me," he explained. "The Dark Lord took five of us aside to teach us in the late '70s. The five of us He considered most capable at the time."

"Five of you? Did you all manage it?"

"No." Though Severus wasn't proud of most of what he'd done during the First War, he couldn't help puffing up a bit. "I was the only one."

She beamed and kissed his neck. "Because you're bloody brilliant! Who were the other four? Anyone I know? Idiots all, I'm sure."

"Your husband and sister were among the idiots," he said, smirking.

"Oh…" she blushed. "Well, I meant what I said. You're brilliant. Who were the other two?"

"Dolohov and Evan Rosier. Neither managed to master it, though Dolohov could occasionally get off the ground. After the Dark Lord fell, I continued to practice as I thought the skill might be useful someday. Dolohov did not. And the Dark Lord… He no longer sees fit to teach His followers any special skills. It's a different war this time."

"Ah. So…" said Narcissa, getting over the initial shock of having seen him fly. "That was Septima Vector, eh? She looked… nice."

"She _is_ nice," he said. "She could feel you glaring at her."

"I was not glaring at her!"

He chuckled. "You absolutely were. Don't try to deny it."

"Well…" Narcissa bit her lip. "Maybe I was glaring a little."

"Don't be jealous." He placed his hands on her hips and pressed his body to hers, pinning her back against the trunk of the tree she'd been hiding behind. "I desire only one woman and that woman is not one hundred and two year old Septima Vector."

Narcissa wrapped her arms around him. "Just who is this one woman you desire, then, Severus Snape?"

Unwilling to let her have the upper hand, he answered with a smirk.

"Minerva McGonagall, of course. You know about my fetish for older women. I wonder what she's up to tonight, since she's skipping the monthly firewhiskey coven."

"You're a horse's ass." Narcissa smacked him on his for effect, which was counter-productive as he clearly liked it.

"Do that again," he said. "Hit me."

"Stop it!" she demanded, pushing him away. Rather than releasing her, he slid one hand up from her hip, over her chest, and rested it gently on her collarbone.

"Maybe Minerva enjoys being choked in bed."

Narcissa let out a loud squeak of shocked laughter and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, afraid of being heard should anyone else be lurking around.

"That's disturbing!" she chastised him, stifling giggles. "I can't believe you even said that!" He laughed too and removed his hand from the base of her neck.

"I almost can't believe I said it either, but it was worth your reaction. You're fun to tease, Narcissa."

"As are you," she said, lowering her voice seductively. She placed her hands back on his arse and grinded him into her. "You could have me here if you wanted."

Though he knew he wanted to take her to the castle, to have her for the entire night and not just for a quick shag session in the forest, he couldn't help being turned on by this. He kissed her, then moved his mouth to suck on her neck, feeling a twinge in his groin as his hands traveled up to her breasts…

"Never mind," said Narcissa, grabbing his wrists and moving them down by his sides. "I don't really want to do it here. I was only teasing you. See? Two can play at that game."

He snorted. "Very well. You win. I'm not sure what you win…"

"It doesn't matter what I win so long as I've won. Come on, now. I'm getting cold. Let's get to the castle before the drunken half-coven returns."

He took her hand as they began to walk, keeping in the edge of the forest for now, just in case anyone else should come walking their way from the castle. Thankfully, he had no trouble getting her to his chambers, as they managed to avoid running into anyone except Peeves, who hurried off quickly when Severus threatened to call for the Bloody Baron.

They were halfway across his office when a knock at the door made them both jump.

"Severus? I know it's late, but if you're awake, this is important." It was Minerva McGonagall.

"Fuck," said Severus under his breath. "It's as if she has radar!"

Narcissa was perplexed. "What's radar?"

"I'll explain later. Quick, through here. This is my sitting room." He led Narcissa through a door to the right of the wall of portraits behind his desk. "I'll get rid of her."

"Don't forget to ask her whether she likes to be choked in bed," Narcissa said in a loud whisper just before he closed the sitting room door.

"Thanks a lot!" he muttered. "Now I'll have _that_ mental image."

"Severus? Are you in there?"

He rolled his eyes, steadied himself, then opened the door. "What brings you here so late, Minerva? Why aren't you at Rosmerta's with the others?"

"I don't fancy going out anymore," she said. Her eyes darted quickly to the portrait of sleeping Dumbledore, but she had to look away. It still hurt too much to think of him… to think about what happened to him. They'd been friends… more than friends, really. Albus had long considered her his closest companion. And she'd been in love with him.

"Why are you here?" Immediately he felt guilty about his rude tone, but he was eager to get rid of her.

"I needed to give you this." She held up a blue folder. "Individual detention slips for five sixth and seventh year Slytherin girls."

"Why are you bringing it to me? Why are you even involved? Horace is Head of Slytherin house."

"They ganged up on a fifth year Ravenclaw."

"Fillius is the Head of Ravenclaw house."

"They were fighting over your godson. I thought you should be the one to inform his parents, though if you'd prefer, I could send them a letter as Deputy Headmistress."

"You've lost me." Severus sighed, rubbing his temples. He chose not to point out that, under him, the Carrows were serving as Deputies, Minerva was not. "These girls were fighting over Draco and you feel this warrants a letter to his parents?"

"They were fighting because apparently he's been _entertaining_ the Ravenclaw girl in the Room of Requirement. Regularly. His girlfriend – or ex-girlfriend, perhaps, I really don't care – caught wind of it and arranged for an attack on the girl after he left her this evening, about eight, eight-fifteen. They went after her, five to one – she's in the infirmary with Poppy now, as is one of the Slytherin girls who got hit with a defensive spell."

"So… what is it you want me to tell his parents? That he's popular?"

"Popular!" Minerva's face went red with anger as her lips became a thin, straight line. "What a sexist viewpoint! I'm certain if he were your god _daughter_ rather than your god _son_ …"

Severus cut her off. "Minerva, please. I'm simply looking to save myself the hassle. I already know how the Malfoys will react. His mother will blame the girls and his father will be proud. Can't say I blame him."

"Severus Snape!" Minerva McGonagall slammed her hand on the desk, again looking to Dumbledore's portrait, as if she hoped he'd awaken to back her up. "I already gave them all detention, but both his parents and the girl's should know that they've been… what they've been doing."

"Fine. I'll go to Malfoy Manor to inform his father in the next day or two. Will Fillius be contacting the girl's parents? Which girl is this?"

"Astoria Greengrass. I will be contacting her parents myself and Poppy intends to have an important chat with her before she leaves the infirmary. We can't have students doing – _that –_ and not contact their parents to inform them."

"Can't we?" he asked. "Can't we simply assign detention for violating curfew and be done with it?"

Minerva ignored this question. "Additionally, I think perhaps Mr. Malfoy should be removed from his duties as Head Boy, since he was supposed to be patrolling the corridors at the time."

Severus sighed. All he wanted was for her to depart so he could continue with his evening – he hoped Narcissa couldn't hear this conversation, as it might ruin the mood.

"Thank you, Minerva, I'll take removal of the boy's position under advisement."

"I don't know what it is this year, Severus. Perhaps it's the war. Perhaps it's because Dumbledore is gone. Perhaps we, as a staff, have lost control. But in all my years of teaching here, I have never had so many problems with students messing around all over the castle! We taught Sex Education here in the late '60s for this very reason. Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank did it for the girls, while Kettleburn handled the subject with the boys, but so many parents complained the school governors made Albus abolish it after only two years."

"I understand that you're upset," said Severus, wishing he was having almost any discussion with her except this one, "But if this necessitates further discussion, let's talk on Monday. I'm tired and frankly I don't have the energy to worry about what students are doing in the Come and Go Room."

"Oh." Minerva shuddered. "What an awful name for it, considering."

"Perhaps we'll bring back Sex Education," Severus went on. "Alecto can teach it to the girls and Amycus to the boys. We'll jinx the students so that whenever they feel the urge, the faces of the Carrows will pop into their heads. That should deter any more students from engaging in such activities."

"I don't know that we want to punish them that severely," said Minerva. She handed Severus the folder. "We need to avoid scandals, diseases, and pregnancies, not scar them for life. You probably want to inform the Malfoys straight away tomorrow, before the girl's father finds out about this."

"Thank you, I'll do that. Goodnight, Minerva."

"Goodnight, Severus." She glanced for a third time at Dumbledore's portrait, having thought she saw him open his eyes, but alas, he seemed to be snoring now. She sighed and exited. Severus charmed the door locked behind her, just in case she should wish to return and forget to knock.

"You can't pretend to sleep every time she comes in here," Severus griped to Dumbledore before tapping on the sitting room door. "Narcissa? You can come out now."

"Did I hear correctly?" Narcissa closed his sitting room door behind her. "McGonagall gave my baby detention?"

"Your baby was apparently caught behaving inappropriately with a girl in the Room of Requirement."

"I don't know what that is." She sat on the end of his desk, crossed her ankles, and looked to him with concern.

"It's not important."

"No, what's important is that she might strip my darling Draco of his Head Boy title. That doesn't seem fair, does it? My sister had to disappear with a man for an entire weekend to lose her position as Head Girl!"

"Your sister is probably the reason Hogwarts taught Sex Education in the late sixties."

"My poor boy, being punished for the actions of a group of rotten girls."

Severus scoffed. Narcissa cocked one eyebrow, unable to see what it was he found so funny.

"I was right, wasn't I?" he asked, grinning. "I said Lucius would be proud and you'd blame the girls. I don't have to tell Lucius tomorrow to know how he'll feel because we've already had this conversation, so you were the one I guessed on."

"Well… I… you… Lucius… Draco…" she sputtered. "I'm blaming the girls because it's their fault! They shouldn't have ganged up on that other girl. If they hadn't McGonagall would have never known."

"Ah, so I was only partially correct," said Severus. He squeezed her hand. "I thought you'd blame the girl he was with and the one willing to fight her for him, not the gang of attackers."

"Oh, I blame both of those girls, too. Especially the one he was with. What sort of little tramp –"

"You should consider your own history before finishing that sentence." He was grinning cheekily, enjoying teasing her. She narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn't stay angry. Not when she knew he was right. With a sigh of defeat, she pulled him close so they could wrap their arms around each other, him standing, her still seated on the desk. They went without speaking for several moments, each alone in their thoughts, when she broke the silence with a slight change of subject.

"Know what I was thinking about when feeding baby Nova last night?"

"What's that?" He reached around her to place the blue folder on his desk.

"I miss having a baby. Know why? Because babies don't tell you they don't want to come home for Easter. Babies don't write their father letters their mother can't read. Babies don't get detention for sexual misconduct at school. Babies don't talk back, or lock their bedroom doors, or go on dates, or put up posters of half-naked singers, or get branded with the Dark Mark. I wish I'd enjoyed it more."

"Enjoyed what?"

"Having a baby." She pushed his jacket off his broad shoulders. It landed on the floor behind him. "I don't know if Lucius ever… if he told you… but I… I was a terrible mother."

"I can't imagine that's true." As he spoke, he uncrossed her knees, parted her thighs, and slid her closer to him, stopping once she was at the edge of the desk with her legs on either side of his hips. He settled his hands on her hips. "From what I've witnessed over the last seventeen years, you're an excellent mother."

"You have too much faith in me, Love." She slid one hand up his torso to the back of his neck, where she scratched her nails lightly against his hairline. "But you feel that way because you never saw me at my worst. No one did. Not even my own mother. No one, except Lucius."

"Whenever I saw you, you were doting on Draco, cradling him, dressing him up…"

"I loved him more than life from the moment he was born. No, before that. From the moment I knew I was having him. It's something so beautiful, Severus, having a baby. You can't imagine until you've done it, until you're gazing down on this living being _you_ created, this darling bundle of unconditional love, a helpless creature who's completely dependent upon you. It's beautiful. But it terrified me. I lived in constant fear that I'd ruin him, just as my mother… I mean, I was afraid that I'd fail him, or lose him, or hurt him, or break him… he was the most precious… and when you… I don't know how Bella could conceive a baby without wanting the father ever present in the child's life – in her own life! A baby is half its mother and half its father and if the mother and father… if they… there's no greater way to express how two people feel about each other than to create a baby together."

"I think your sister does love the father of her baby," he said, but Narcissa dismissed this.

"It doesn't matter. That's not the point." She slid her hands into his back pockets and rested her forehead on his chest.

"What is the point?" he asked, gently rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She looked up at him, chin tilted down, in that unintentionally seductive way that drove him mad.

"Let's make a baby," she whispered pleadingly. "You and me."

He smiled but shook his head.

"You told me 'no' to that not two weeks ago, and with good reason. I'd lost my head, as apparently you have now."

"I haven't lost anything," she argued. "I shouldn't have told you no that night."

"Yes, you should have. I'm glad you did. Besides, you had a whole plan, didn't you? A timeline. A list of rules a couple should follow in order to ensure they're 'doing it right.' Dating and marriage and all of that? Thus I agreed I'd gone momentarily mental and was grateful to you for talking sense into me. So no babies. Or don't you remember?"

"I remember…" She coaxed him into a kiss, her hand returned to the back of his neck so her nails could resume scratching against his scalp. "Fine, have it your way. We won't make a baby. Not tonight. But I _do_ wish I'd enjoyed mine more when I had the chance… and I think we should practice the fine art of baby-making anyway, in case we want one in the future."

"You're even more mental than I am," he murmured, but he returned her kiss, unable to resist. His hands moved from her thighs to her arse as he thrust once against her, making her breath hitch in her throat. She stopped scratching lightly at his hairline and dug her nails into the back of his neck, eliciting a groan from him. His mouth moved to one of his favorite places, where her neck met her shoulder, and he began to kiss and suck at her skin while she placed one of his hands on her breast, encouraging him to touch her. She was set to resume undressing him when a movement to her left caught her eye. One of the women in one of the portraits was watching them dreamily, her head propped up on her hand as Bella had done while sleeping during the Dark Lord's meeting. She closed her eyes as soon as she realized Narcissa had seen her, but it was too late. Now Narcissa was noticing other things. Like the fact that Dumbledore's snores seemed to be too perfectly timed to be real. And the fact that a vaguely familiar man in another of the portraits was squinting in their direction. And another woman in yet another portrait was covering her eyes with her hands, but clearly peeking out at them from between her fingers.

"Stop, Severus! Severus, stop!" Narcissa smacked him on the bicep twice when he failed to comply. "Stop!"

"What? What's wrong?"

She kept very still, barely even moving her mouth, as she said, "They're watching us."

"They're…" he glanced over at them. "No, they're asleep."

"They're pretending," she insisted, pointing at one of the women. "Especially that one."

"Dilys Derwent." Severus addressed the portrait's subject directly. "Are you pretending to sleep, Dilys?"

The woman in the portrait kept her eyes closed for a couple of seconds, but once she realized it was futile, she opened first one, then the other.

"Er," she said. "Hello."

"You were pretending?" asked Severus, one eyebrow raised. After a brief hesitation, the woman in the portrait nodded.

"Yes, sorry, I was pretending. But you can't blame me! I've been curious about her for such a long time… Severus Snape, she's just as lovely as you told her she was in one of your secret little love letters."

Severus' cheeks went pink, which made Narcissa giggle despite her embarrassment.

"What's your name, dear? Where are you from? What do you do?" asked Dilys. "He won't tell us anything. We only know what we can read over his shoulder. He firmly believes in keeping his private life private."

"I wasn't aware that you knew the definition of the word 'private,' Dilys," said Severus. He stepped away from Narcissa, who recrossed her legs, feeling terribly exposed, even though aside from removing her coat while in the sitting room, she was as dressed as she'd been upon arrival.

"I don't like this casual way she speaks of conception," said a ginger woman in a shrill, judgmental tone. She had been the one peeking through splayed fingers. "There's a proper order one must follow before bringing a child into the world, and it begins with marriage!"

"Get with the times, Lizzie!" said Dilys Derwent. "It's 1986!"

"It's 1998," said the one called Lizzie. "You 'get with the times,' Dilys."

"Is it 1998 already?" asked Dilys. "My goodness, time flies when you're dead."

"She's quite a bit older than I thought she'd be," said Phineas Nigellus in a gruff voice, looking over Narcissa as if she were a diamond bracelet he'd been charged with appraising. "But she's decent looking. You've done alright, Snape. Was she a Slytherin? Not Muggle-born, I hope? I'd hate to see the first Slytherin Headmaster since my tenure end up with a Mudblood."

"I've told you how I feel about that word. You're not to use it in my presence," admonished Severus. He turned to Narcissa and raised a hand toward the pale, bearded man in the portrait who'd been looking her over, then gestured toward the redhaired woman with the shrill voice. "Phineas Nigellus Black and Elizabeth Burke, meet Narcissa Malfoy."

"Black?" asked Narcissa, turning her gaze to Phineas Nigellus. "I've heard of you, of course. You're my great-great-grandfather. My maiden name is Black."

His eyes widened in surprise. He looked to Severus. "You're seeing my great-great-granddaughter? I don't know whether to be furious or proud! On the one hand, you don't seem to be making an honest woman of her, but on the other…"

Unable to wait for him to finish his thought, Elizabeth Burke dove headfirst into a rant. " _Maiden_ name? Then you're a Malfoy through your husband, are you? The scandal! Are you a widow or a whore? _Which is it?_ "

"Elizabeth's mother was a Malfoy," explained Severus as Elizabeth prattled on.

"Oh, how I wish they hadn't moved that portrait of mine from the parlor in Malfoy Manor to the hidden passage here! That awful Claudia did so back in 1949 because she said she was sick of me meddling in her marriage, but perhaps if I'd have meddled more…"

"You meddled in my mother-in-law's marriage?" asked Narcissa. Elizabeth Burke opened her mouth to answer, no doubt to resume lecturing shrilly, but she was cut off by a dark haired man in one of the other portraits.

"Are you the mother of Draco Malfoy, then? The boy McGonagall caught with a girl tonight?" This was Everard, whom Narcissa knew to be one of the school's most popular past Headmasters, as she recognized him from several other portraits around the castle, including one outside the Charms classroom. "Hm. Like mother like son, I suppose, eh? Not that there's anything wrong with that in this day and age, is there?" He paused. "That's not a rhetorical question; I genuinely want to know. In my day, unwed coupling was considered exceptionally scandalous, as Elizabeth can tell you."

"It was in my day too," Brian Gagwilde, another former Headmaster, chimed in over his chess game. "But it happened nonetheless. I remember back when I first learned of Rowena Ravenclaw's longtime affair with…"

"No one needs to know about that!" Phyllida Spore, former Headmistress and author of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, piped up. "Airing the Founders' dirty laundry for all to hear! That's none of our business, and neither is this!"

"It's our business if we say it's our business!" snapped Elizabeth Burke.

"It's Snape's business and his alone!" countered Phineas Nigellus Black.

Elizabeth Burke huffed. "When I was Headmistress, _I_ never would have brought a man back here!"

"That's because no man would have you!" said Dilys Derwent. "When I was Headmistress, I had an affair with the flying instructor. Now, _he_ was handsome. That's why I hired him. Unfortunately, he wasn't much of a teacher. Or a flyer. Eventually I had to fire him. He broke his own nose by tripping over his broom in front of a class of first years. Pity. Never found another quite like him. Don't misunderstand, I found a much better flying instructor. But I never found another like him for, you know, me."

Clearly Elizabeth Burke found this statement nearly as scandalizing as Severus' choice to bring Narcissa to the castle. She bristled, "Well, I never!"

"You _never_?" asked Everard with genuine concern. "Perhaps that accounts for your disgruntled disposition, Elizabeth."

Narcissa covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Though part of her felt exceptionally uncomfortable with having been seen by all of them, and with the fact that they knew about her and Severus, she couldn't help being amused by their infighting.

"If Rowena Ravenclaw were alive today…" started Brian Gagwilde. Phyllida Spore cut him off.

"You've been dead since 1364 yet you remain as obsessed with Rowena Ravenclaw as you were in life! Get over it! She's dead! You're dead! Everybody's dead; we're all dead! You're never going to end up together!"

"If my portrait were still hanging in Malfoy Manor…" muttered Elizabeth Burke, folding her arms in a huff. Phineas Nigellus Black glared at her from his painted easy chair.

"Well it isn't, and if Snape wants to hear our opinions regarding his mistress, he'll ask us... though I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about him defiling my great-great-granddaughter."

"I doubt he's 'defiling' her," said Dilys. "What a misogynistic way to view sexual intercourse."

The use of the words 'sexual intercourse' elicited protests and gasps from several former Hogwarts Heads, who clearly found the very term as inappropriate as the act itself, if not more so.

"I was Healer, you know, dear." Dilys Derwent was addressing Narcissa directly now. "At St. Mungos from 1722 until 1741, which is when I came to Hogwarts. At the hospital I championed causes for women, like trying to get a simple birth control potion developed, but the men in the Ministry kept shooting us down and passing laws to make it increasingly difficult to even experiment. I left medicine to mold young minds here instead, hoping the students would go on to change the Wizengamot and thereby the world, and in my first year I started Hogwarts' Witches' Suffrage Movement Club. And it worked! One of my former students became the first female Minister for Magic! Artemisia Lufkin. She took office in 1798. When I taught her, women weren't even allowed to sit on the Wizengamot yet!"

"As well they shouldn't!" said Elizabeth Burke, to which Phyllida Spore called, 'Here, here! Women in the Wizengamot! What's next? Awarding a witch the Order of Merlin, first class?"

"I believe Amelia Bones was given that honor," said Everard, who then explained to Narcissa, "One of my portraits hangs in the Ministry."

"Now, on this one I agree with Elizabeth and Phyllida," said Phineas Nigellus Black. "Teaching is a worthwhile profession for both men and women, but lawmaking should be for the men."

"What nonsense!" shouted a blue-eyed witch in a head scarf. The plaque below her portrait identified her as Edessa Sakndenberg. "I was born in 1503 and even in early sixteenth century Greece I was raised with views more progressive than that!"

"I'm inclined to agree with Edessa," chirped a bored looking, slightly overweight witch named Antonia Creaseworthy, who looked to be much younger than most of the others. She was smoking a long cigarette, blowing puffs of painted smoke around her portrait. "No reason women cannot run both the school and the Ministry. I was a damn fine Headmistress, and before that, an accomplished Unspeakable."

"What did you do as an Unspeakable?" asked Narcissa, never having met one before.

"I can't speak of it," answered Antonia.

Everard raised a hand as if in class. "Excuse me? No one's answered my question about whether it's still scandalous for…"

"To hell with your question!" Elizabeth Burke cut him off. "And enough of this Witches' Suffrage jibber-jabber! The school's reputation is at stake!"

Dilys Derwent rolled her eyes dramatically. "Nothing is at stake! She makes him happy, that's what matters!"

"I concur!" a former Headmaster who'd thus far still been faking sleep spoke up. His plaque was old and worn, thus Narcissa couldn't make out his name. "Let the poor man live! Dumbledore doesn't seem bothered."

This earned a hurumph from Edessa. "Dumbledore? Dumbledore is asleep!"

"He's not asleep," said Brian Gagwilde. "He's pretending to be asleep. How much sleep do we need? We're dead, as everyone sees fit to remind me on a regular basis. Now, back to the topic at hand, I believe Rowena and Godric carried on their affair for at least a decade…"

"I told you, stop with this affair nonsense!" interjected Phyllida Spore. "That was not ' _back to the topic at hand'_ because their alleged affair was never the topic at hand! For the love of all things magic."

Elizabeth Burke was not ready to let up. "Married to a Malfoy and here with our Headmaster… How does this not bother you, Phineas Nigellus? She's your blood!"

"You're one to talk of blood!" he responded in a huff. "You came from a long line of adulterous men who've fathered bastard half-bloods all over the European countryside! How many Malfoys…"

At this point, the arguments all overlapped to the point that Narcissa could not longer make out what each individual was saying, especially now that other former Headmasters and Headmistresses were 'waking up' to join the discussion. Dilys had to shout to be heard, but she managed to make her voice carry above the rest.

"Leave the woman alone! I don't care if she's got a thousand husbands! You've all seen how happy she makes our Severus! He never smiles save for when he's writing in that notebook! Don't go ruining this for him!"

Eyes still closed but no longer 'snoring,' Dumbledore chuckled.

"Merlin's beard!" sighed Narcissa, overwhelmed nearly to the point of dizziness.

Severus held up a hand and loudly cleared his throat. The arguments ceased.

"Her name is Narcissa. She will be staying here in the sitting room tonight because it is too late for her to travel home, which she will do tomorrow. That is all you need to know. And not one of you will say anything about this to anyone. Understand?"

"Understand," mumbled Dilys, Phineas Nigellus, Everard, Brian Gagwilde, Phyllida Spore, Elizabeth Burke, and all the others in disappointed unison, though not one of them believed Narcissa would be bunking in the sitting room.

Dumbledore smiled.

Once the couple was safely out of earshot from the portraits, not in the sitting room but in Severus' bedroom on the other side of it, he apologized for the behavior of Hogwarts' past Headmasters and Headmistresses. As he spoke, Narcissa gazed around the room, taking it in. It was more ornate than she would have expected from him, especially considering his home on Spinner's End, but she wondered how much was by his design and how much he simply hadn't changed – the realization hit her that this must have been Dumbledore's chambers less than a year ago, but she pushed away the chilling thought. The plain but attractive moss green bedspread was identical to the one in the guest room where he slept in his childhood home, though the bed was a size bigger, and he had a wide bureau, a small desk, a bedside table, a bookcase (full from top to bottom), a tall wardrobe, two easy chairs, a large fireplace, and a door that presumably led to the loo. He flicked his wand and a fire roared to life.

"The portraits are created to assist the current Headmaster or Headmistress in his or her tasks, but they have a tendency to get involved even when they're not wanted."

"I liked some of them," said Narcissa quietly, turning away from the bookcase, stepping toward him. "That one woman – Dilys Derwent? – she called me lovely and she said I make you happy. Was she right, Severus?" She took another step forward. Now she was close enough to press her palms to his chest before bringing them up to rest on his shoulders. "Do I make you happy?"

"Happier than I thought possible," he said. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, expecting him to take her to the bed. Instead he walked in the opposite direction, sitting her down atop his short, wide bureau. "Does that surprise you? I would have thought you'd be aware of the affect you have on me."

"You make me happy too," she said as they moved into the positions they'd been in at his desk, with her legs on either sides of his hips, his hands on her thighs, her arms around him, the nails of one hand scraping lightly against the back of his neck. "It's still my birthday."

"For a few more minutes," he said, glancing at the clock before leaning in to kiss her. When they separated, she shook her head.

"No, I was born at 8:56 in the morning, which means I have another nine hours and two minutes during which you can spoil me."

"Gladly." He unzipped the back of her black cocktail dress, all the way down, and was pleasantly surprised to find she wasn't wearing a half-slip under it – just a black lace bra (with a bit of built-in padding, as she'd previously admitted) and matching black underwear. He pushed the dress down over her shoulders, letting it pool at her waist, running his hands up and down her bare back before relieving her of the dress entirely. She reached down to undo the straps of one of her high heeled shoes, but he stopped her, his hand on her ankle. "You can leave those on for now." He slid his hands back up her legs, over her hips and back, to the band of her bra, where he fiddled with the clasp in the back. "Though I'll take this."

She let him remove it, tossing it to the floor, even though the lights were still on.

"Your chest just shrunk two sizes," he teased, taking her breasts in his hands. "What unnatural sorcery is this?"

"No talking, you terrible man," she scolded.

As he kissed and touched her upper body, she began unbuttoning his shirt, pushed it off his shoulders as she had his jacket, and then turned her attention to divesting him of his trousers. He was already hard. She took him in her hand, squeezed gently, and began to stroke, making him groan.

"Fuck… yes… Narcissa…" he moaned between kisses placed on her lips, her jawline, her shoulders… "Never… Never before… with any other woman with whom I've been… Never before have I… Never before have I wanted… Oh, fuck, yes, keep doing that… Never before have I wanted what I want with you…"

She ceased stroking him, making eye contact, unblinking, barely breathing. "What's that? What is it you want with me?"

Rather than answer, he grabbed her arse, pulled her to the edge of the bureau so their chests were pressed together, and resumed kissing her, his arousal pressing against her lower abdomen. She welcomed both his tongue in her mouth and his closeness to her bare skin, but after a few moments she pulled back. "What is it you want with me, Severus?"

He was no coward, but at the same time, he was afraid to answer, for he knew after tonight there would be no turning back – and they'd already gone too far as it was.

"Severus? What is it…?"

"A relationship," he answered with a quiet vulnerability she'd never seen him display before. "I want to date you, Narcissa. To take you out like I did tonight. To stop pretending that I'm having sex with you because I want sex, when the truth is, I want _you_. I've never…" He turned his head slightly, letting a curtain of hair fall across his eyes, partially blocking him from her view. "I've never had a romantic relationship before, and I don't know…" With a sigh, and despite obvious discomfort, he pressed on. "I realize it's mad. I'm aware that it's dangerous. I know you're married. And though I've been telling you for two years that our affair can only be physical, and can't shake the notion I'm making a terrible mistake now, I think…"

"Make love to me," she interjected, taking his face in her hands, pushing his hair back behind his ears, and turning his face toward her. His eyes met hers and he saw in her the same vulnerability she'd seen in him. "You can finish undressing me, you can leave the light on, you can even look at me if you must, but all I wish for my birthday is for you to make love to me."

"No," he said, but before she could be crestfallen, he clarified, " _With_. Not _to_." He cradled her face as was doing to his, stroking his thumb gently across her cheek.

"It's semantics," she said softly, unable to look away. "With, to, isn't it the same?"

"Why 'make love?'" he asked. "Why not 'shag' or 'fuck?' That's semantics too."

Her brow furrowed. "Why? Because… because… because it's not the same. The words matter."

"Precisely," he said. "The words matter. Thus it is not _to,_ but _with_. I'll make love _with_ you."

Those butterflies from earlier returned, as a fluttering filled her from her heart to her belly to between her legs as desire for him consumed her.

"Yes," she whispered, glancing down to his lips and back up to his eyes. "Okay. Make love with me."

"Yes." He captured her mouth with his, picked her up as he had before, and this time, carried her to the bed, where he gently laid her down on her back. He settled not on top of her, as she'd expected, but beside, and ran his fingertips from her shoulder, down her side, past the curve of her breast, to her waist, hip, and thigh. "I can look at you?"

She nodded, eyes closed, as he felt her body tense under his hand.

"Don't be frightened. I won't hurt you. Open your eyes… look at me."

She obliged.

"Do you trust me?"

"I… I trust you."

"You hesitated."

"I trust _you_ ," she insisted. "It's me I'm not sure I can trust."

He kissed her gently. "Then I won't look."

"But I want you to be happy."

"Making you happy makes me happy."

She reached her right hand up, resting it at the back of his head, and guided him on top of her. "Making love with you will make me happy."

"Good."

She welcomed his tongue into her mouth as they kissed over and over and over again, breaking only to breathe. His hands moved to her waist, where he pinched the sides of her black lace knickers and removed them, leaving her completely naked in front of him with the lights on for the first time in the nearly two years since they'd entered into this affair.

He slid his hand between her legs and was pleased to find that she was already slick and ready for him. She cried out when he entered her with his fingers, arching her back, aching for more. He took her breast into his mouth, licking and sucking at her nipple while speeding up the movement of his fingers until he brought her to orgasm. Her entire body trembled as the climax broke over her, leaving her weak. Then he flipped her onto her belly and placed a trail of kisses from the back of her neck, down her spine, to the small of her back. He sat up, and began to massage her back and shoulders, kneading her skin with his fingers and palms. She brought her arms up to rest folded under her head, her face turned toward the fireplace along the opposite wall.

"Damn," she said. "I love this."

"I love the softness of your skin," he said. He leaned forward to place a kiss on the back of her neck. "I love the strawberry scent of your hair."

"I love the way your eyes crinkle in the corners when you smile," she said. "I love the way you make me feel beautiful."

"You _are_ beautiful."

"I love that I feel safe with you."

"You _are_ safe with me." He kissed her shoulder, moving one hand back between her legs, running the fingers of his other hand along her arm. He kissed her wrist as she squirmed under him. He flattened his body on top of hers and murmured in her ear. "I love that you can make me hard with only a kiss. I love it when jokes fly over your head."

"Seems like a non-sequitur," she said.

"I love that you just used non-sequitur incorrectly."

She giggled and shrugged her shoulder, as if to force him off of her, but without conviction. He laughed and returned to straddling her, sliding his hands to her hips.

"I love that you don't correct my grammar," she said. "Even though I can tell you must want to."

He laughed. Then he parted her legs with his knee and propped her up, touching her intimately with his tip.

"What do you want?" he asked. So she pleaded with him to fuck her. Now.

"No," he answered, still rubbing himself against her there. "I'm not going to fuck you tonight, remember?"

"Make love with me then," she begged. "Make love with me, Severus. I want you. I want you now. I need you."

"Very well."

He entered her slowly and began to thrust, holding her shoulder for leverage. Once they were moving together, he sat back, pulling her with him, as he had the night he'd killed Dumbledore and called her his. He kept one hand on her hip, guiding her up and down, while the other snaked up to her breast and his lips moved to her neck.

"Oh, Severus," she cried out, close to a second climax. "Yes, Severus… yes… please… Severus…"

"Narcissa," he said, ceasing movement. "I love it when you call my name but you have to stop."

"Why?"

"Because…" he felt his cheeks redden uncharacteristically for the second time that evening and was glad she wasn't looking at him. "Because you're going to make me come."

"Is that bad?"

"It is when I only have a limited amount of time with you and wish to make it last."

"Oh!" Now she was blushing too. "I'll be quiet…"

"You don't have to be quiet." He re-positioned them so that she was again on her back, bringing her legs up around his waist. She was still wearing the strappy heels, which he liked.

"I know you don't want me looking," he said, "But I love the way you look."

"I love it when you're on top of me," she said. She dug her fingernails into the backs of his shoulders, urging him to continue. "I love being able to touch you, to kiss you."

His lips met hers as he resumed thrusting. When their mouths parted, she bit her lip to keep from crying out, but ultimately she couldn't hold back, calling his name over and over as he increased his speed, and he found he couldn't hold back either.

"My beautiful Narcissa," he murmured into her ear, just before coming inside her.

"Yes," she moaned, not wanting him to stop. "You're mine, Severus. You're mine and I'm yours."

Afterward, she removed her shoes, he threw a quilt over them, and he held her, content to be close, thankful that they had all night.

"I wonder if anyone will even realize I was gone," said Naricssa, her left cheek resting against Severus' shoulder, with her right hand on the center of his chest. He had his arms around her and was lightly running his fingers up and down her spine and from shoulder to shoulder across her back. "What do you suppose would happen if I just never went back?"

"I think Lucius would look for you. He loves you, Narcissa."

She scoffed. "He has a funny way of showing it, then."

"I'm not excusing his behavior, but I do believe he genuinely loves you. The fact that you're bothered by his extra-curriculars perplexes him, as he sees sex and love as two completely separate acts, the latter of which he reserves for you."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you see sex and love as completely separate acts?" She propped herself up to look at him, but he coaxed her back down, stroking her dual-toned hair.

"I've had nearly twenty years worth of perfectly satisfactory sex with half a dozen women I don't love, thus I think it's conceivable to separate the two as he does," he answered honestly.

"But isn't it better…" She nibbled her lip, wondering whether she'd regret asking the question that was wriggling about in her brain. "Isn't sex better when you love the person?"

He closed his eyes as if counting to ten, as many professors do when praying for the patience needed to avoid hexing their idiot students into oblivion. He felt her hand leave his chest and knew without looking at her that she was twirling her hair around her index finger. He wondered whether she'd picked up on the fact that he'd said 'half a dozen women,' which was one shy of the number he'd been with, but at the same time, he couldn't tell her he loved her because it would be dishonest and unfair. There were things he loved about her, as he'd told her, but he didn't _love her_ … or, at least, he didn't think he did. Not in the same way he loved Lily, in any case. And he hoped she didn't love him.

 _…_ _except a tiny part of him, a tiny part of him that had been lying dormant since the death of his beloved childhood best friend, did indeed want to be loved…_

Fuck.

Why had this non-emotional affair become so complicated?

Because it was _unquestionably_ complicated.

What had changed? When?

Was it that night in the attic, when he said he'd risk getting her pregnant?

Or was it when he asked her on their first date, for New Years Eve?

Was it when he called her _his_ in that moment of passion?

Or was it when she first told him there were things she loved about him?

Perhaps it was before any of that. Perhaps it was longer ago than he could ever admit. Perhaps it when he told her his secret about Lily? A secret he'd never revealed to anyone except Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, one he'd never shared with Lucius or Septima. Perhaps that had been the turning point?

He supposed he'd known it was more than physical for her about eighteen months ago, from the way she looked at him after they'd made the Unbreakable Vow.

And, he also supposed, this affair hadn't been _strictly_ physical between them the night he agreed to brew the abortion potion, then held her while she cried and slept.

But he didn't love her.

He couldn't.

Love was more dangerous to him in his fight against the Dark Lord than anger, fear, revulsion, apathy, or a sense of duty to keep safe the son of the woman he…

Loved.

Despite Dumbledore's silly beliefs, Love was not what they needed to win the war.

Not for the first time since he'd started seeing Narcissa, Severus was reminded in this moment of the knowledge he once imparted on Potter: "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked easily… they stand no chance…" Severus knew that he himself was not among the weak people referenced in his warning to Potter. He'd proven that over and over again during both the First War and this Second one.

But Narcissa?

She wasn't strong enough.

He couldn't let her love him.

It wouldn't be safe.

Now he was truly torn.

Half of him wanted to tell her right now that they were over, that they had been behaving rashly, that no good could come of this and it would be better to end it once and for all before they somehow managed to compound their mutual mistake.

The other half of him wanted to tell her to get dressed, grab her wand, and be ready to go, to run away, to forget the war and desert the Dark Lord and leave the danger behind, to get married, have a baby, and live like Muggles somewhere they'd never be found.

He settled for an average of the two – not doing a damn thing.

"Severus?" she whispered, a slight tremor in her voice. "Are you asleep?"

"I'm not asleep."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't know that I can."

"Severus?" She shifted so she was looking down at him. Her hair tickled his cheek and neck, and he could sense her lips a breath away from his. "Severus… darling… Whatever you feel for me aside… I think you should know… I'm falling for you."

"I know," he said quietly. Though she'd been too drunk to recall saying those very words to him a month ago, he'd replayed them over many times in his mind.

"Does that bother you?"

"It worries me."

"Why?"

Finally, he opened his eyes to meet hers, which were wide and full of apprehension and insecurity that he felt compelled to kiss away, though he refrained.

"I couldn't live with myself if I got you hurt. Or killed. I care about you." He ran his hands up her back, pulling her on top of him, and wrapped his arms protectively around her.

"You care about me?"

"Very much, yes."

"Don't you think sex it better, then, if it's with… if it's with someone you care about?"

He rolled them over so she was on her back and ran his fingers lightly over her hip before squeezing his hand between the mattress and her arse, thrusting her against him. "Didn't I tell you long ago that you've ruined sex for me? I can't enjoy it with anyone else."

"Only me?"

"Only you."

"You don't want anyone else?"

He shook his head. "Only you."

"Well I hate to be the one to tell you, Love, but if that's the case, it sounds like you might be falling for me, too."

He smiled in spite of himself. "First thing tomorrow, before I bring you home, we're going to practice Occlumency." He kissed her temple. "Fair enough?"

She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, moving him down to kiss her properly. "Fair enough. But not until tomorrow."

"No." He slipped his thumb under the crux of her knee, bringing her leg up so that her calf was against his chest, knowing she could feel the effects of his growing arousal against her inner thigh. "No, my beautiful Narcissa. Not until tomorrow."

They made love for the second time that night, this time expressing their feelings for each other without words, and when their coupling was complete, he used Nox to put out the lights, covered them with the top sheet and blankets, turned onto his side with her back against his chest, kissed her shoulder, and held her until they both drifted comfortably off to sleep.

Around 4 in the morning, Narcissa had a dream, as usual.

A dream that morphed into a nightmare.

As usual.

 _She was holding infant Nova in the nursery, feeding her a bottle, reciting for her the story of Babbity Rabbity, when the door opened and a pudgy-bellied toddler with wildly curly hair in pigtails toddled in on unsteady legs. The little girl had wide, dark, heavy-lidded eyes, and was wearing a black dress with cut out shoulders that looked as though it had been designed for an adult then shrunk down to fit an eighteen month old._

 _"_ _Auntie!" said the child, putting her hands in the air. "Up! Up!"_

 _"_ _There you are, Nova!" Bellatrix entered the nursery and picked up the toddler, balancing her on her hip, a yellow rubber duck in her free hand. "You get around so fast now that you're walking!"_

 _"_ _Nova?" asked Narcissa, confused._

 _"_ _Yes, Nova," said Bellatrix, looking her over as if she'd gone mad. "Remember her? Your niece? My daughter?" She turned her gaze toward the little girl. "It's time for your bath, Nova Black. Come on, now. I bought you that ridiculous Muggle toy you wanted." She held up the duck. "We'll put it in water and see if it has any reasonable function other than looking stupid."_

 _"_ _But if that's Nova…" said Narcissa slowly, gazing down at the baby in her arms. Her eyes widened. The little girl's face had changed. Her eyes weren't dark, as Nova's were, they were silvery-gray. She had heart-shaped lips, a button nose, pale skin and a head full of thin, straight hair, and she'd grown from the size of a newborn to that of a six month old. Narcissa glanced around the nursery, confused. This is when she realized she was not in Draco's babyhood bedroom in Malfoy Manor, but somewhere foreign, somewhere she'd never seen before, though the crib was the same, as was the rocking chair._

 _"_ _I think you're not getting enough rest," said Bellatrix, still looking her over in a peculiar way. "It's alright. I was the same way after I had my daughter. I used to fall asleep while the Dark Lord was speaking! I was a mess. Right, Nova, Love?"_

 _"_ _Mummy!" cried the toddler gleefully. She reached out for the yellow rubber duck. "Lovey! Duckie!"_

 _"_ _Everything ends in 'e,'" said Bellatrix, rolling her eyes. "Annoying as all fuck."_

 _"_ _Fuckie!" said the little girl, who had succeeded in grabbing the duck from her mother._

 _"_ _Great, she's learned a new word," said Bella sarcastically, but with a smile. "Listen, Cissy, why don't you put down that baby and take a nap? I'll come get her as soon as Nova's bath time's over. Don't worry. I can handle two at once. I'm highly capable. That's why I've always been the Dark Lord's most faithful and loyal and valuable follower. That's why He chose me to mother His sole heir in the first place. So don't worry. Put her down. You need sleep."_

 _"_ _I… yes, sure," said Narcissa, still confused. "I will."_

 _"_ _Buh-bye, Auntie!" said little Nova, waving her duckie, smiling at Narcissa. Bellatrix and her daughter left the room, closing the door behind them._

 _"_ _If you're not hers," whispered Narcissa to the infant. "Whose are you? And why do you have my mother's eyes?"_

 _"_ _Don't you know?" asked a voice from the hall, startling Narcissa, who hadn't heard the door reopen. Her son entered. The hall beyond him was dark and silent. It was a hall she did not recognize._

 _"_ _Draco, this baby – is she yours?"_

 _"_ _Mum," he said with a laugh. "You really don't recall?"_

 _"_ _You haven't called me Mum since before you started school," she said. Until he was four, she'd been Mummy. Then, for a couple of years, Mum. And finally, just Mother, and Lucius was Father, same as she called her own parents. It had stung at the time. It made her feel like she was losing her little boy. But Lucius encouraged this, believing "Mummy" and "Daddy" were titles to be used by babies, not big six year olds. This was also the year Draco had gotten his first hair cut and started choosing playtime with his friends over cuddles time with his mother._

 _Draco stroked the hair of the baby in her arms. "She's not mine, Mum. I'm barely out of school. I don't even have a girlfriend anymore, thanks to McGonagall's letter to her parents."_

 _"_ _Then whose is she?"_

 _"_ _How've you not figured it out? Mother, she's yours."_

 _Narcissa gasped. "Mine? But I didn't want any more babies."_

 _"_ _You should have been more careful, then," said Draco with a shrug._

 _"_ _Who's her father?" Narcissa inquired, though this was a strange question for a mother to ask her son. Draco seemed surprised it by._

 _"_ _Don't you know? Don't you remember?"_

 _"_ _I… I remember," she lied. "I simply… I had a moment of confusion. Where is… he?"_

 _"_ _Mum, are you feeling alright?" Now her son looked upon her with genuine concern, as Bella had. "Perhaps you should take a nap. I can watch the baby while you get some sleep."_

 _"_ _I don't want sleep," she insisted. "I want to know where… where the baby's father is."_

 _"_ _He's dead," said Draco. "You know that. The war's over, remember? And everyone's dead. Her father's dead. The Dark Lord is dead. Harry Potter is dead. Auntie Bella is dead. Everyone's dead."_

 _"_ _Your aunt isn't dead," said Narcissa. The baby in her arms began to fuss. Narcissa bounced her lightly. The bottle was empty. Perhaps she needed to burp. "Bella was just in here. She was about to give Nova a bath."_

 _"_ _Nova, her daughter? Mum, you have lost it, haven't you? It's alright. Stress will do that. You haven't been sleeping. But Mum, baby Nova is dead. Auntie Bella brought baby Nova to the final battle and now they're both dead. You know that. All the Death Eaters are dead."_

 _"_ _What about your father?"_

 _"_ _Father was a Death Eater. He's dead."_

 _"_ _No! But… but what about… what about Professor Snape?"_

 _"_ _I told you, he's dead. One of the first confirmed dead. All Death Eaters are dead."_

 _"_ _This doesn't make sense, Draco. They can't be dead. They can't all be dead!"_

 _"_ _But they are, Mother." He smiled, stepped forward, and tried to touch her arm comfortingly, but his hand went right through her. He rolled up his sleeve to show the Dark Mark, barely visible on his rapidly paling skin. "Even I'm dead."_

 _"_ _You're not dead, Draco," she said, panic rising in her voice. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the baby's whimpers turned to wails. "You're not dead, darling, you're standing right here!"_

 _"_ _I live only in your memories," he said, growing lighter by the second, becoming ghost-like. "When the Dark Lord fought Potter for the final time, I was killed. We were_ all _killed. How many ways must I explain it? Father, Auntie Bella, baby Nova, Uncle Rodolphus and his brother, the Rowles, cousin Juliet, your niece called Tonks, the Dark Lord Himself and Harry Potter of course, they were the last two, plus that Mudblood Granger, the entire Weasley family, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape… all of the Death Eaters, Mum, every last one of us." He was becoming more ethereal by the moment._

 _"_ _How did I survive? Why did I survive?"_

 _"_ _How? You weren't there; you stayed home. Why? Because you were pregnant. Remember? But everyone else is dead, Mum. Everyone who went to fight is dead. We're all dead. I came back only to tell you you'll have to accept our deaths, because this – talking to us as if we're still here – isn't healthy."_

 _"_ _No!" she was sobbing now, as was the baby. "No, please, this has to be a mistake!"_

 _"_ _I'm sorry," said Draco, dissolving still more. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. But on the bright side, at least you and this baby have each other. You have the chance to be a better mother this go 'round. And you'll have to be, for her sake. She won't have a father to save her if you lose your head again." Draco had now faded so much he was nearly gone. She reached out to him but just as had happened when he tried to touch her, her hand went right through him, as if he were nothing but air._

 _"_ _Draco, please! Don't go!"_

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Mum. I didn't want to remain on this earth as a ghost, which means my time here is over. Take care of your new baby. Do a better job with this one."_

 _"_ _No! Please! Draco! Come back! Draco!"_

Narcissa woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in the bed, her chest heaving. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and with whom she was in bed. She could see Severus silhouetted by the light from the fireplace, breathing comfortably, sleeping peacefully. Luckily, her jolt hadn't awoken him. She settled back down, her head on his chest, trying to force the nightmare from her mind, already losing the details. It had been about Draco… and baby Nova… and a rubber duckie… someone had died...

Instinctively, subconsciously, Severus wrapped his arms comfortingly around her in his sleep. Her heart was still pounding, but listening to the steady rhythm of his calmed her.

In a few minutes time, she fell back to sleep.

When she awoke again in the morning, she'd completely forgotten the dream.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just want to brag for a sec – I researched all that Headmaster/Headmistress stuff to have the right years, places other portraits hang, bloodlines, first female Minister for Magic, etc, because I'm a total dork. Hahaha. Anyway… now for review responses. Thanks all! **AL**

 **Slughorn** – Thanks for discovering and reading this fic! Sorry about the C-word… if it helps, I did a Word search and it doesn't come up again for the rest of the fic. Love that you read all in one go, though! Wow!

 **Everything Hurts** – lol Thanks! Glad you're still loving it.

 **Harry Hobbit** – I have almost everything mapped out, except I haven't decided exactly how they get revenge on Juliet yet… assuming they still do. Looking forward to writing it, though.

 **Shira** – Aww thank you! I love writing the Bella/Cissy scenes. I hope you liked the portraits in this chapter!

 **Trickster32** – I realized later that by making Severus Draco's godfather and Bella his godmother that he loses both of his godparents during the Final Battle. So I made myself sad there.

 **Firetemplar415** – Your reviews make me laugh. Thx!


	37. The Following Day, March, 1998

**Chapter Thirty-seven – The Following Day, March, 1998**

In the morning, they awoke, made love again, showered (separately), and ate breakfast in his sitting room, then spent an hour practicing Occlumency.

"Last time today, I promise," said Severus. "Then you can leave."

"I'm not in a hurry to leave," Narcissa assured him. "It just mixes up my mind, having you rifle through it like that."

"I want you to have the ability to block any intrusion. You should be prepared to block at a moment's no…"

Mid-word and without warning, he plunged into her head using Legilimency. She hadn't been ready, so he was able to see momentary flashes of random memories – bathing toddler Draco, shopping for her first wand, eating at Dovelings with Bellatrix and Andromeda, doing homework in the Slytherin common room, kissing her husband (Severus quickly moved past this one), scolding Dobby the house elf, being whipped by her mother as a young girl, giving baby Nova a bottle, painting her fingernails – before she managed to block him out.

"What was that one with the whip?" he asked. He'd seen that spell used before by only one person, her sister, Bellatrix, whom he'd assumed had invented it to use on enemies as he had Sectumsempra. She'd used it on him, as a matter of fact, the day they had sex on his couch. When Bella did it, though, the rope grabbed people by their necks and snapped them painfully down to the ground, whereas in the memory Bella and Narcissa's mother was using it the way one would a riding crop on a horse.

"Mother came up with that as a means to punish us. She called it 'the switch.' If we were bad, she'd use it to hit the back of our legs. Mostly just me. Andromeda was never bad and Bellatrix always fought back."

"I find it difficult to believe that you were ever bad," he said.

"I didn't mean to be, but I'd get… scared. It doesn't matter; let's not talk about it. Try again. I'll block you faster this time, I promise."

If she was willing to have him have another go at breaking into her mind, she must really not want him to know what she'd been whipped for. He obliged, and though the curiosity was nagging at him, he did not intentionally look for that memory. This time he saw only two – patching up a crying Draco's skinned knee and being felt up by a teenaged Lucius in the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts – before she forced him out.

"You get better every time," he praised her.

It was eleven in the morning when he said they should leave. By this time most of the students would have gone, attending the day's Hogsmeade visit, and since First and Second years weren't permitted to roam the grounds without an instructor anymore, he felt they were relatively safe, assuming they could escape the castle unnoticed. Of course, if they did run into anyone, he would simply say he'd sent her a message by Patronus informing her of Draco's misconduct and that she'd hurried to the school out of concern.

When they reached Malfoy Manor, they said goodbye at the apparition point on the grounds, as he figured it would not be prudent to escort her inside. With a furtive glance to ensure they were not being watched, he kissed her and she melted against him, not wanting him to leave, but he said he had to.

She was wearing her dress and robe from the trip with Bella the day before instead of the cocktail dress and coat from last night and she'd fixed her hair in the same style, half-braided, but decided to forgo makeup.

She headed into the parlor to retrieve a book she'd been reading. She was picking it up from the couch when she heard the door slam behind her. She turned to find Lucius, red-faced and obviously livid.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

"I… I went out for breakfast. I didn't think you'd be back until later."

"You went out for breakfast when? Last night? I've been home since ten pm, at which time I searched the entire Manor for you. I checked our bedroom. I checked the room you said you'd be sleeping in. I checked all of the unoccupied rooms, your sister's room, the library, the parlor, the nursery, even the dungeon and the attic. You weren't here, Narcissa. You weren't here and you weren't out to breakfast. Where the fuck have you been?"

"I… I… I…" she stammered, completely at a loss. "I don't know."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You don't know? You don't know where you were?" He stalked over to her, his unkempt blond hair flying wildly behind him. He hadn't shaved again. He looked as though he hadn't slept either.

"Lucius…"

Before she could say another word, he grabbed her by the back of her hair and forced her down to a seated position on the couch.

"Where. The fuck. Have you been?"

"I don't know!"

He used the hand holding her hair to force her to look at him. "Were you alone?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying!" He raised his snake headed walking stick threateningly as she fought the urge to curl up into the fetal position she'd used defensively throughout her childhood.

"Don't hit me, Lucius."

"Where have you been?"

"Please, don't hit me."

"Damn it, Narcissa!" He pushed her away, releasing her hair, and slammed the cane down on the coffee table. When he brought it up again, she closed her eyes and threw up her left hand, which unintentionally cast out a force strong enough to propel him backward into the bookcase. From it fell several ancient volumes of Malfoy genealogy records, an antique vase, which shattered, and a couple of silver framed family photographs featuring young Draco at various stages with his parents and grandmothers.

"What did you do?" asked Lucius, scrambling up from the floor despite having had the wind knocked out of him. He looked frightened. "What was that?"

"I don't know; it just happened."

"You don't know?" This brought back his anger. "You don't know where you spent the night, you don't know whether you were alone, you don't know what hex you just used on me, you don't know much, do you?"

"I…" She stood, squaring off against him, trying to look tougher than she felt, to summon up her inner Bellatrix. "It's not your business where I was. You've gone out overnight countless times without informing me as to your whereabouts and I've never once questioned you! So as long as you're going out all the time and not coming back until days later, I'll spend the night wherever I damned well want to with whoever I damned well want to doing whatever I damned well want to, so there!"

"Whomever," he corrected. "Not whoever."

Narcissa let out a screech of frustration. "You're killing me!"

"I ought to be killing you!" he snapped. "For disappearing overnight!"

"You disappear overnight! You disappear overnight all the time! You have been disappearing overnight on a semi-regular basis since our son was born! And I've never once disappeared overnight, never once, not in twenty-five years of marriage, not until last night!"

"That is because I am the husband and you are the wife."

"Maybe I don't want to be the wife then, eh? How about that?"

He stepped back almost as if she'd hit him with another hex. She was reminded of Severus' words from last night, about how much her husband genuinely loves her, and though she felt justified in both her action and statement she also felt guilty for hurting him. She was about to apologize when he stepped to her, grabbed her by both arms, and squeezed so hard she knew there would be bruises later.

"You want a divorce? Fine. Get out. This is my home and if you can't learn to obey me, you are no longer welcome here. Good luck trying to survive on your own."

"Very well," she said with more conviction than she felt. "I'll leave. I'd rather suffer through trying to survive on my own than spend another minute under your control! In case it's slipped your mind, I am your wife, Lucius, not your fucking house elf, and as such, you can't tell me what to do! And let go of me!" She brought her arms up, forcing him to lose his grip on her biceps.

"You insubordinate witch! After all I've given you! What were you when we met? A lonely little girl with a bad home life, a speech impediment, no money, no future, and no friends."

"My speech impediment was nearly gone by then!" she interjected. Neither of them heard the parlor door opening again or noticed Draco and Severus entering from the hall. Lucius sneered, regarding his wife with more vitriol than ever before in their nearly thirty years together.

"You were nothing before me, Narcissa. I made you my girlfriend, I made you my wife, I made you a mother. I made you a woman of status and wealth to be envied instead of a one to be ostracized and pitied. Everything you are today I made possible. And you thank me by disappearing overnight, by refusing to tell me where you were, who you were with, or what you are doing? Have you completely forgotten your place?!"

"My place?! My place as what? A trophy wife? Mother to an adult child? I'm as lonely now as I was before we met, Lucius! Worse!" She shoved him away from her and backed up a step so her legs were against the seat of the couch. There was nowhere else to go.

"If you're lonely, it's your own damn fault!" He pushed his blond hair back away from his face, breathing heavily, as all of the rage he'd been bottling up since his time in Azkaban threatened to spill out onto her. "I've tried with you! I've done all I can. But I was right to tell Juliet that you're frigid." He leaned in close and added in a tone of mock-concern, "I'm _afraid_ to fuck you, Narcissa. You might give me frostbite."

She couldn't think of a proper response to that.

So she slapped him.

"Bitch!" snapped Lucius. He grabbed Narcissa again by the hair, forced her back onto the couch, and raised his fist as if to hit her. Severus brought up his wand, but it was Draco who intervened first.

"What are you doing to my mother?"

Lucius froze, making eye contact with his son, then, as if surprised to find his fist raised in the first place, slowly lowered it. Narcissa, who'd been trembling, felt tears of embarrassment stinging her eyes. This was not a moment she would have wanted Draco to witness (she did not yet know that Severus was in the room too).

"Your mother," Lucius said softly. "This is between me and your mother."

"If you're going to try to hurt her," Draco said, stepping forward with his own wand raised, "I'll have to hurt you, Father. I love and respect you, but I'll do whatever's necessary to protect my mother."

"So kind of you to come to her defense, Draco," Lucius said in his usual cool tone, as if he and his wife hadn't just been in the middle of a screaming match. "Especially considering that she was the one from whom you needed protection as a baby."

"No," whispered Narcissa, looking pleadingly up at her husband. If he was about to tell Draco what she feared he was about to tell Draco, that would hurt more than being hit, more than being beaten or cursed or cheated on or cast out. "Please, Lucius, don't."

"What do you mean?" asked Draco.

"Please, Lucius, I'm sorry," she whispered. She reached up to take his hand but he wrenched it away. "Please."

"Your mother was a mess after you were born, Draco. She couldn't take care of you. She could barely function. That's why we hired that squib girl to nurse you and change your nappies and watch you sleep. But at first, she was only here eight hours per day, to give your mother a break."

"Lucius…" Narcissa's voice quivered.

"From six in the evening until eight in the morning, I was home."

"Please, don't…"

"For two hours every evening, from four until six, you were alone with your mother."

"Lucius, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said. I'll tell you where I was." Narcissa took one of his hands between hers. "Darling, please."

Lucius wrenched his hand away for a second time, still staring into his son's eyes, as if unaware anyone else was in the room.

"We were in the middle of the first war. I had many obligations and could not be home all the time. For two hours each day she had to take care of you on her own. Only two hours, and she couldn't manage. Some evenings I'd return to find you'd soiled yourself and she'd been unable to change you, or I'd find you crying because she hadn't managed to feed you. Then one evening I came home…"

Narcissa was crying now, quietly, into her arms, which were folded up and resting on her bent knees, whispering, "Please, don't," over and over. Severus' stomach twisted painfully. He wanted to go to her, to hold her, to make Lucius stop hurting her... but he was momentarily powerless.

"She was leaning over you in your crib with a pillow. She had the pillow a breath away from your face. You were screaming. She looked as though she was in a trance… I called her name from the doorway of the nursery several times but it was as if she couldn't hear me. Then she placed the pillow over your head, to suffocate you…"

"I'm sorry!" Narcissa's voice broke into sobs as her body shook. Severus felt as though someone had Stupified him. He was aware of what was going on around him, but completely unable to move or react.

"I hurried into the room and wrestled her away from the crib. I threw down the pillow and picked you up. Thankfully, you were unharmed. She kept saying it wasn't her fault, that she didn't mean to, but that you wouldn't stop crying."

"You cried all the time," said Narcissa through her tears, she turned and leaned over the couch, reaching toward her son with trembling hands. "Draco, my sweet boy, I've always loved you more than life, but you cried all the time."

"After that, we had the squib girl here for twelve hours a day and your grandmother moved in. Your grandmother stayed in the room off the nursery because your mother couldn't be trusted to be alone with you. She couldn't be trusted alone with her own infant son. It continued like this until you were over a year old, until after the fall of the Dark Lord."

"I w-wouldn't have d-done it," Narcissa insisted weakly, her sobs punctuated by alternating gasps for air and hiccups. "I s-swear, I swear, I wouldn't have done it."

Lucius continued to ignore her. "For the first eighteen months of your life, Draco, you needed protection _from_ her, which is why there's a certain irony in your determination to be protective _of_ her now."

Draco stepped closer to the couch, his pale face one of concern, but also revealing a twinge of fear. He looked at his mother as if he'd never seen her before.

"Is this true, Mother?"

She averted her gaze from his face, her own gaze landing on Severus as she realized he was also in the room, which seemed to weaken her further. She looked back to her son, tears streaming freely down her ruddy cheeks.

"I'm s-sorry, Draco. P-please, please b-believe me, I w-wouldn't have h-hurt you. Not really. You... You've meant the world to m-me since before you were even b-born. I love you more than I've ever l-l-loved anyone, more than I could ever love anyone. And I… your father's r-right, it was as if I was in a trance. I… I b-barely remember… You see, my m-mind… my mind… there was s-s-something wrong with me, darling. There was something wr-wrong in my brain, and I wanted to see-see-see a Healer, but they w-wouldn't let me. Your... your gr-grandmothers. My m-mother and Cl-Claudia. They s-said people would talk. But I… I wasn't myself, Draco." Narcissa took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing herself to speak without sobs, without stuttering. "It didn't happen right away. When you were a newborn, I held you all the time. All the time. If anyone else held you, you cried. I was okay, though. I was okay at first. I was okay for the first month, six weeks maybe. And then... starting then... I was having awful thoughts. I had awful thoughts, such awful thoughts, all the time, and nightmares... I started having nightmares... and I was so tired… and when you cried, I could feel your sadness cutting through me like a dagger, and holding you didn't make it stop, and I couldn't handle your pain on top of my own pain, and I was afraid all the time. But I never would have hurt you, my darling boy. Not really. Not on purpose. I'm sorry. I love you." She glanced toward Lucius, then averted her eyes, staring down at the ornate wedding ring on her third finger, which she was twisting around anxiously. "How could you tell him that, Lucius?" she asked meekly. "How could you hate me so much?"

These last words seemed to have a profound effect on Lucius, as the cold anger drained from his face, leaving a looking of abject horror, as he realized what he'd done.

"I don't hate you, Narcissa," he said. He moved to comfort her, but she pulled away. "I know you weren't right in the head then. I know it's not your fault."  
"Don't touch me," she said. She wiped her eyes with her palms, the way a child would. "You want to know where I was last night, Lucius? I was…"

"She was with me," Severus interrupted. "I went out last night. I was heading to Rosmerta's in Hogsmeade, but I came upon Narcissa on the way. She'd been drinking and wasn't sure how she'd get back to Malfoy Manor, since she can't apparate onto the grounds. I have been given strict orders by the Dark Lord to remain at Hogwarts every night and did not wish for Him to learn I'd disobeyed, not to mention that side-along apparition can be risky if one party is incapacitated, thus I brought her back to the school and let her sleep it off in my sitting room. I apparated her back here this morning and was about to return to Hogwarts when I remembered that McGonagall wanted me to speak with you about Draco's recent indiscretion for which he has received detention and may lose Head Boy status. Draco and I were discussing the incident in the kitchen when we heard the commotion – he was about to explain to me what he's doing here instead of being at school."

"Is that what happened, Narcissa?" asked Lucius.

Narcissa nodded instinctively, barely able to process what her lover had just said, and glad her husband was not a Legilimens, because she was, in the moment, completely incapable of clearing or closing her mind.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I… I don't want you to think… I have a drinking problem," she said. His expression softened to one of concern, as if all the anger had left him with the flick of a wand.

"My dear Narcissa, I believe it is safe to say that you _do_ have a drinking problem. But that's alright. We can work through it. I wish you'd just told me, instead of letting me think… what I thought was much worse. But I'm still upset. You could have gotten hurt. Someone could have found you in that state and taken advantage of you. Why don't you go to the bedroom to rest and we'll discuss this later?"

Narcissa nodded again, then made the mistake of looking to Draco, who was staring back at her with suspicion. Clearly he hadn't bought this story as readily as her husband had.

"Now you, son," said Lucius. He moved to retrieve his walking stick from the floor. "You told me you apparated home last night because you felt badly about not seeing your mother on her birthday, but you failed to mention this trouble at school."

"You wanted to see me on my birthday?" Narcissa shot him a hopeful smile, wondering if he'd ever forgive her for what he'd just learned. He did not smile back. "That's sweet, Love."

"All sweetness aside," Severus droned in the tone he typically reserved for classroom lectures, "It is not at all appropriate for you to have sneaked off of school grounds, Draco."

"Oh?" said Draco, raising an eyebrow, turning to Snape with a look of clear contempt. "Are you going to give me another detention, _Professor_?" He spit the last word out with as much disrespect as he could muster. If Lucius noticed this, he did not comment on it. Narcissa, on the other hand, bit her lip nervously, resisting the urge to twirl her hair.

"Dear," Lucius said, gently helping Narcissa up from the couch. "Go, take a shower, get some rest, and I'll be in to talk with you later. I'll speak to Severus about Draco's little trouble at school, don't you worry about it."

"Alright," she said, wishing Severus hadn't been there to bear witness as Lucius shared with Draco her most closely guarded secret shame. She couldn't look at him as she left the room.

The three men settled on the couch and in the two hard-backed chairs in the parlor. Severus, without emotion, relayed to Lucius what Minerva McGonagall had shared with him the night before, and, as he'd predicted, Lucius was more proud than bothered by the news.

"Girls are fighting over you? Can't say I'm surprised. It was the same for me back at Hogwarts. Between my fourth year and my seventh I was with a dozen different girls from three different Houses! No Gryffindors, but I didn't need them. I had more than my share."

Severus' jaw twitched as it occurred to him that Lucius, who started dating Narcissa as a sixth year, probably cheated on her even back then… though he also suspected some of this talk was just talk.

"It's not like that," said Draco miserably. "I broke up with Pansy weeks ago, right after Christmas break. She can't accept it, that's all. I don't want to return to Hogwarts tonight. Can't I go back tomorrow, Father? I'm an adult."

"You're a student," said Severus. "As long as you're a student, you'll abide by school rules."

"Rules are meant to be broken," said Lucius. He rose and clasped his son's shoulder. "Let him spend one more night at home, Headmaster? I think it'll do his mother some good. Thank you for taking care of her last night. She's… not well, as you may have noticed."

Severus and Draco made eye contact. Severus attempted to use Legilimency on him, but apparently wasn't as subtle with it as he thought he was, because Draco promptly shut him out.

"Fine," said Severus, figuring it may indeed be a good thing for Narcissa. "But you will return tomorrow before your first class of the day, understand?"

"I understand," said Draco. He stood, facing Severus. "Are we done?"

"Yes."

Without another word, Draco turned and left the room. Severus was eager to leave too, but Lucius wanted to talk.

"I feel as though I'm losing Narcissa and I don't know what to do," he said. "Want a drink? I have all the alcohol hidden away now, even what used to be in the basement, but I can get one of the house elves…"

"No, no thank you," said Severus, holding up a hand. "I must return to Hogwarts."

"Oh." Lucius looked disappointed. "Would you have time for lunch one day soon? I can come to you."

Severus felt a twinge of guilt. Damn it, he'd really messed things up. His closest friend's marriage was falling apart, and it was to a great degree his fault, and now the man wanted to confide in him, to seek advice... advice he couldn't give.

"Certainly," said Severus, unable to think up a way to say no. He stood and shook Lucius' hand. "I'll Owl you once I have a good idea regarding my schedule for this week."

"Thanks. I'll see you soon, mate."

Once Severus had gone, Lucius summoned a house elf and asked for a bottle of bourbon, no need for a glass. He could talk to Narcissa about her drinking problem later. For now, he needed to do some drinking himself.

Meanwhile, Narcissa was in her bedroom, sprawled out on her back on the bed, too upset over what had transpired to even cry anymore. A knock at the door made her flinch. Assuming it was Lucius, knocking only to be polite, she called out, "It's unlocked."

It was Draco.

"Mother?"

"Oh, darling, come in." She sat up and scooted until she was sitting on the end of the bed. He closed the door and sat beside her.

"Mother, I'm not upset with you. I understand that you were… that you were sick. I know you couldn't have hurt me."

She'd been wrong. She could still cry. She felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She wanted to say something, anything, but she was afraid if she opened her mouth, only a sob would come out.

"Did Snape tell you why I got in trouble with McGonagall?"

She nodded.

"It's not true, you know. What McGonagall thinks we were doing. I haven't been meeting Astoria in the Room of Requirement for _that_. We just talk. We've held hands. I've never even kissed her, except once on the cheek, when I brought her home on New Year's Eve."

"Really?"

"Really. I don't want to rush things. She's only a fifth year. Plus it's hard, you know, since she's a Ravenclaw. There aren't many places in the castle we can spend time together without others around, without everyone bugging us, where we can talk. That's why we've been going to the Room of Requirement. Because I like her. She's nice. And smart. And she's pretty. She likes the same music I do, and she likes Quidditch, even though she doesn't play, and she said she might want to become an Unspeakable someday, even though neither of us knows what an Unspeakable does.

"That's because they can't speak of it," said Narcissa, recalling the words of former Headmistress Antonia Creaseworthy.

"She thinks it would be exciting to have a job so secret no one even knows what it is. I told her I'd rather be the head of a department at the Ministry, so everyone can know what I do."

"You want to work at the Ministry?"

"I don't want to spend my life like Father, just making connections and throwing around money, with a bunch of honorary titles, relying on the name Malfoy. I want to earn my own way."

"You've never mentioned this before, Draco. I always assumed you wanted to be exactly like your father. But at the risk of sounding cliché, you should follow your dream. Is working for the Ministry your dream?"

"Well, no," he confessed, avoiding her eye. "My _dream_ is to become a famous professional Quidditch player, but I don't think I'm good enough."

"I think you're wonderful! An excellent Seeker! You _are_ a Seeker, right? The one who catches the snitch?" Draco nodded. "Yes, I thought so. And you're the best Seeker Hogwarts has ever seen!" Narcissa took his hand and kissed the back of it. He pulled away, but half-smiled.

"That's such a mother thing to say, Mum. You've never even watched me play and you think I'm the best."

"You haven't called me Mum in a long time," she said. An odd feeling crept into her, one of déjà vu, but she pushed it away.

"I'm good at things other than Quidditch, too. I got Outstanding in my Potions and Charms Owls and Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration, and those are tough courses. I'm also good at dueling; I can perform several jinxes and counter-curses nonverbally. Auntie says I'm a natural at Occlumency… and I'm sort of interested in alchemy. Astoria likes alchemy and she's been teaching me about it. She and I might study it in more depth after Hogwarts, together… if the war ends."

"It'll end," Narcissa assured him. She put an arm around his shoulders. This time he did not pull away.

"Mother? Can I tell you a secret? I don't want you to tell anyone, not even Father, and especially not Auntie Bellatrix."

"Of course."

"I wish…" He glanced around as if someone might be listening, then lowered his voice even though they were clearly alone. "I wish I'd never taken the Dark Mark. I don't want it. When the Dark Lord made me use the Cruciatus on Dolohov and Rowle last August, I felt sick to my stomach the entire time. And when… and when He fed Professor Burbage to the snake… and when I almost accidentally killed Katie Bell… and I couldn't kill Dumbledore… I don't think… I'm not cut out for…"

"Shhh, darling," She wrapped him in a protective hug. "It's alright."

"Am I soft, Mother?" He rubbed his left forearm. "Am I weak?"

"As I told you last year, there's nothing weak about not wanting to take another person's life, Draco."

"But if I were strong, I'd stand up to the Dark Lord. I'd tell Him no. I'd tell Him I want out."

Narcissa chuckled. "That wouldn't be strong, darling, that would be stupid. He would kill you. This war won't last forever, just as the last one didn't, so we'll do what we did last time and wait. The waiting is the hardest part."

"That's what Astoria says. She says her family refuses to ally themselves with the Dark Lord, but they won't fight against Him either. They're purebloods, part of the Sacred 28, but they don't want to risk their lives over it. I think you'd like her. She's pretty. Did I already mention that she's pretty? She's got soft brown hair and dark blue eyes... she's sort of quiet, at least until you get to know her. And smart. I already said smart, right? That's why she's in Ravenclaw. She doesn't play Quidditch, but she watches, and she's in the gobstones club, which is…"

"Nerdy?"

Draco stifled a laugh. "Yeah, pretty nerdy. But she's really great."

"She sounds lovely. Though I'm not keen on the idea of some awful girl stealing my only baby away from me." She kissed him on the top of his head and he laughed.

"You can't keep me all to yourself forever, Mother."

"I can and I shall."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, her just holding him, until he sat up and faced her.

"Mother? Will you be disappointed if I lose my status as Head Boy?"

"Nothing you could ever do would disappoint me, Draco."

"Do you think Father will be disappointed?"

"If he is, he'll get over it."

"Mother? Were you really too drunk to make it home last night?"

"No," she answered honestly, surprising both of them. "I was angry with your father, so I didn't come home on purpose, though the reality is I couldn't have even if I'd wanted to, since I can't come and go without someone with a Dark Mark to apparate me. What Sev – what Professor Snape said was true. He _did_ find me in Hogsmeade and he did apparate me back here this morning. And technically, yes, I had been drinking, though not much. But I believe your godfather lied about me having been drunk and sleeping in his sitting room so your father wouldn't be as furious."

"He broke it off."

"Excuse me?"

"Father. With Juliet. He told me, last night, when he got back and we couldn't find you. He told her she has until the end of this month to vacate that flat he rented. He told her it's over."

Narcissa's index finger immediately went to her hair. "And he shared this with you?"

"We talk about things," said Draco nonchalantly. "He's worried about you."

"About me?"

Draco stood with a sigh and faced away from his mother, uncomfortable. "Father thinks the stress of having the Dark Lord here, and the war, and all of it… that it's getting to you. He said he didn't want you to end up like you were… I guess he meant when I was a baby, but I didn't realize…"

"I swear, Draco, my love, I would not have done it. I was just so… I couldn't stop… you cried so much, and I didn't know what to do, and… I never would have hurt you, though. Never, I promise."

"I know." He turned back toward her. "I didn't say to make you upset. I just… Father's not well either. He's also under a lot of strain. And I know it's not any of my business, but I think you're taking your stress out on each other, which makes things worse. He wasn't angry when he couldn't find you last night; he was scared. He thought something awful might have happened to you. He looked all over Malfoy Manor, then he went to Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley and Horizont Alley because Auntie said she last saw you there, and when he returned it was well after midnight and he was sick with worry. I don't think he slept all night. Not that it makes it okay for him to… to hurt you… but…"

"It shouldn't be your place to worry about your parents, Love." Narcissa rose and took his hands, bringing them up to her lips to kiss them, then dropping them gently back down. "I'll speak to your father later today and I promise, we'll do better together, for your sake, alright?"

"Alright," said Draco. "But you should do better together for your own sakes, not mine."

Narcissa smiled sadly. "When did you get so smart?"

"Oh," Draco waved a hand dismissively. "It was probably last summer, when Auntie Bellatrix taught me literally everything I know. Just ask her. She'll tell you."

This made Narcissa laugh so Draco laughed too. She wrapped her arms around her son, who returned the hug.

"Maybe we can go out for dinner," she said, just before he left the bedroom. "I'll ask your father."

"That would be nice," replied Draco. "Let's go to a Muggle place so we won't run into anyone we know."

"Good idea."

Lucius, to her surprise, decreed that they could indeed go out to dinner, and even suggested inviting Bellatrix to join them. She accepted the invitation, eager to escape the Manor, and excited about getting the baby ready for her first evening out – since they were going into an area in which they were highly unlikely to run into any non-Muggles, she figured she could risk being out in public… so long as the Dark Lord – who had already been gone for over 24 hours and was not expected back any time soon – didn't find out.

As they were dressing, Lucius attempted to bring up what had happened the night before.

"I'm glad Severus was there to save you, but for fuck's sake, Narcissa, you can't be going out getting drunk in public like that! Do you want the whole Wizarding world to know you've got a drinking problem? Are you trying to embarrass me? To sully the Malfoy name?"

"No, and for what it's worth, I don't think I have a drinking problem, I think have a marriage problem. You hurt me today, Lucius. You hurt my arms. Look!" She pushed up on of her sleeves. "Bruising. And if Draco hadn't been there, you would have hit me. Do you realize that? You would have hit me if he hadn't stopped you."

"I was angry."

She fixed the sleeve of her dress and sat down on the edge of the bed, shoes in hand. "Then perhaps you have an anger problem."

"I wouldn't have an anger problem if you didn't have a drinking problem."

"That's nice," said Narcissa. "Abuse me then say it's my fault for being abused. I feel like I married my mother."

Lucius released his walking stick, which fell to the floor with a clatter.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I said I feel like I married my mother."

"Because you think I abuse you then blame you for being abused?"

"That's what I said."

"Do you truly feel that way, Narcissa? Do you feel that I abuse you?"

She stopped what she was doing – lacing up her black boots – and looked at him. She was surprised to see him staring back at her with an expression of mixed hurt and horror.

"You were going to hit me," she said, as if it should be obvious. He moved to her, kneeling on the floor in front of her place on the bed, and placed his hands on her knees.

"I was going to hit you."

"I know. I just said that."

"I was going to hit you." He repeated the words as if in shock, as if it had only just occurred to him that he'd been about to hit her earlier.

"I know."

"I've never hit you."

"You hit me once," she corrected. "On the hand, with your walking stick."

"That was an accident. I was aiming for the table. My intention was to intimidate you, not to hurt you. But today, I was going to hit you."

This was news to her. He'd not only never apologized for having hit her with the cane, he'd never told her it was accidental.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He took her hands in his and brought them up to his lips as she'd done to Draco's earlier, except that he held hers there longer and didn't release them afterward. "I'm sorry, Narcissa. It's as if I don't know who I am anymore. Ever since Azkaban, things haven't been right between us."

"Things haven't been right between us for a long time," she said softly, hating herself for the pain she could see in his blue eyes, knowing that she'd contributed to it, and unsure of whether she even wanted to try to take it away.

"There's a darkness in me now that wasn't there before. I don't know how to go back."

"We can't go back, Lucius. Only forward."

He placed her hands back in her lap and moved his to her outer thighs.

"Do you remember the first time we took Draco to a Muggle restaurant? It was your thirtieth birthday."

Despite the gravity of their current situation, the memory brought an instant smile to her face. "We were on vacation in Barcelona. He was four, almost five. His hair was still long. I tied it back, same as how you wore yours. It was summer. He had on that adorable Muggle outfit with the red shorts and knee socks and that dark blue sweater vest. He looked like a little doll!"

"You remember his outfit, I remember his misbehavior!" Lucius chuckled. "During dinner at that tapas place by the hotel, he slipped my wand from my pocket and began brandishing it like a sword, making dishes explode, upending tables, sending that one waitress literally flying." It hadn't been funny in the moment, but it cracked him up in retrospect.

"You had to stupefy Muggles left and right so I could modify their memories!" said Narcissa, who was laughing too. "I had Draco on my hip, and I was waving my wand, shouting 'Obliviate, Obliviate!' at patrons and staff, and modifying their memories was so hard because I'd never tried it before on people who don't speak English."

"Some of them spoke English."

"Yes, but not all! Not even most! And at least I know a bit of Spanish, but that one couple spoke nothing but German! The only German word I knew was _schadenfreude_ , and that did not help me in our situation at all."

"Then we had to apparate out of there as soon as officials from the Spanish Ministry of Magic began arriving."

"We certainly would've been brought up on charges for breaking that Magical Secrecy Degree or whatever it's called."

"Thank Merlin, we were never caught. But we made it into the papers."

"Even the Daily Prophet reported it! Draco's first brush with fame! 'Pint-sized Wizard Wreaks Havoc in Barcelona Restaurant!' That was the Prophet's headline. I believe I saved a copy of the article in his baby book."

"Only a mother would wish to preserve something like that." Lucius grinned. Narcissa stroked his cheek, feeling the unfamiliar stubble under her palm and thumb.

"Yes, well, you were much more careful with your wand from then on."

"Lesson learned. It's a good thing I wasn't out with him alone, though. I'd never have been able to Obliviate all of those people. You've always been better at that than I am. You're better at most things than I am."

"You're flattering me," she said, but she didn't mind. She liked being flattered.

"It's the truth. What I said earlier, about you being nothing without me, it wasn't true. I said it to hurt you, because I was hurt, but the truth is, I wouldn't be anything without you, Narcissa. You mean the world to me and I don't deserve you." He half-rose, placing one knee on the mattress beside her, and without thinking about what she was doing she guided his face to hers. Their lips pressed together in a gentle kiss as they drifted slowly down onto the bed, with her on her back and him on top of her. He was just beginning to deepen their kiss when the bedroom door flung open. It was Bellatrix, already in her coat, with the bundled up baby in her arms.

"Ew! Enough of that shit, let's go before the Dark Lord returns and realizes I'm gone! It's half-passed six already. I'm bloody starving to death, and you're in here fooling around like idiot teenagers." She snapped her fingers three times to accentuate her next words: "Let's. Fucking. Go."

Lucius laughed good-naturedly, climbed off of Narcissa, and summoned over his own Muggle-style coat.

"I'll… I'll be right down," Narcissa said, fighting away the sick feeling rising up inside her. Lucius nodded, Bella rolled her eyes, and they both headed out down the hall, where they met up with Draco. After their voices had drifted away, Narcissa finished lacing her boot, wishing she had a little wine to calm her nerves.

"What was I thinking?" she said aloud, wiping the memory of her husband's kiss from her lips. She grabbed her red lipstick from the pocket of the robe she'd worn the night before and applied it, looking in the mirror. "What is wrong with you, Narcissa?" she hissed at her reflection. "Don't be the whore Elizabeth Burke thinks you are."

Just before heading downstairs to meet her family, she grabbed the notebook from her side table drawer and jotted down a quick message for Severus.

 _I hope you don't hate me. –NM_

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope those who celebrate Christmas had a great day today and that those who celebrate Chanukah enjoy the next six days, and if you celebrate something else at this time of year, Happy Holiday(s) and if you don't celebrate anything, well, enjoy the rest of December! Not gonna beg, but if you wanted to give me a gift, I wouldn't say no to a new review or two (lol). I'm just so goshdarned close to 200 I can taste it and it tastes like an Every Flavor Bean... the buttered popcorn one, thankfully, not earwax. Thanks for reading! **-AL**


	38. Late March, 1998

**Guest:** Loved your comment in which you wondered about how Draco could be suspicious because I had _just_ finished editing the opening scene of this chapter, in which I (try to) answer that, though I also tried to drop subtle hints leading up to it previously. Anyway, I'd love to know what you think! Thx! (Other review responses at the end as usual.)  
 **All:** The last chapter seemed to be pretty unpopular with readers. Fingers crossed this one (which is transitional) puts the fic back on a better path! Thanks to everyone who gave feedback. I appreciate it, even when critical, because it's all constructive and helps me rework upcoming chapters! Thank you!  
 **-AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-eight – Late March, 1998**

Friday afternoon, Severus sat in the Headmaster's office staring at a pile of paperwork he had no desire to tackle (while ignoring Dilys Derwent's attempts to engage him in conversation about Narcissa) when a knock on the door provided a welcome interruption.

Welcome, but only for a moment.

He waved his wand, calling "Enter," expecting to see Minerva or Fillius, or perhaps one of the Carrows. He was not expecting it to be Draco Malfoy.

"McGonagall wants me to serve my detention tomorrow," he said. "But it's Quidditch. We're playing Hufflepuff. We have to win this one because we lost to Ravenclaw."

"Not my problem," said Severus, looking back down at the pile of parchment in front of him, quill in hand. "Unless you can convince her to reschedule your detention, you shall miss the match to serve it."

It was strange. Years ago, he would have moved hell and high water to ensure his star student would play in that match, but their relationship had deteriorated drastically during the year leading up to the death of Dumbledore, and the damage was seemingly irrevocable.

Draco nodded, his face expressionless, but did not turn to leave. Severus waited, still staring down at his paperwork, as if unconcerned. He wished he could delve into the boy's mind, but he was a far better Occlumens than he was a Legilimens, and the boy was adept enough at the former to keep him locked out.

"Is there something else?" Severus asked after a too-long pause.

"Yes."

"Well?" said Severus. "What is it?"

Draco walked further into the room, glancing around, conspicuously avoiding looking at the portrait of Dumbledore behind the desk, and settled into one of the chairs facing Severus.

"I want you to stop seeing my mother. Sir." The vitriol with which he'd called Severus "Professor" the other day was not present, as his "Sir" seemed to have been said with more respect than he'd mustered up for his godfather in nearly two years. Severus sat back, looked him over, and cocked an eyebrow, not revealing anything.

"Excuse me?"

"My mother. You know. Narcissa."

"I am aware of the identity of your mother," said Severus dryly. "We've met. What about her?"

"She's… fragile. And under a lot of stress. You saw her last Sunday. You heard her fight with my father. She's not well. And I don't believe you're helping."

"I helped her return to Malfoy Manor because she is unable to apparate onto the grounds. That is all." Severus again lifted his quill and began reading through the forms on his desk. He waved his free hand dismissively. "You may go."

"My father doesn't suspect anything," said Draco, unwilling to let it drop. "But he was in Azkaban when Potter attacked me. He doesn't know that she managed to make it to Hogwarts before anyone but you knew I'd been attacked. How did you communicate with her so quickly?"

"You assume there is something inappropriate going on between your mother and myself because I informed her of your injuries and she responded promptly? I assure you, I was merely doing my job as your Head of House by notifying her and she was merely responding as a frantic mother by rushing to the castle to check on you. As for our method of communication, it may interest you to know that grown witches and wizards have a number of message-sharing options available to us about which you students are unaware, including doing so by corporeal Patronus, so that we can avoid relying on owls, especially in emergencies. Hardly evidence of a scandal."

Draco nodded, but Severus could sense there was more, thus he continued to wait. Finally, Draco broke the silence.

"I saw you leaving, the morning after Dumbledore…" His voice trailed off as he glanced at the portrait of the former headmaster, who was, as usual, snoring lightly. "It was around sunrise. I couldn't sleep. I was drinking tea in the kitchen. I know you… I know you'd spent the night… with her."

Severus regarded his godson emotionlessly, his eyes darkening the way they always did when facing the Dark Lord, when he needed to close and clear his mind. "I won't be presumptuous enough to comment upon what I reckon you believe we were most likely doing…" he began, unsure of where he was winding this overly wordy sentence. Draco cut him off.

"I'm not a child. I know what you were doing."

"Your mother is my friend, Draco, and nothing more," Severus lied. "Your mother and father have been my friends since before you were born, and to assume there is anything untoward…"

Again, Draco cut him off.

"I don't have to assume. My aunt spent half the summer teaching me Legilimency. My skills are rudimentary, but I can read my mother's emotions more easily than those of anyone else. I know how she feels when you're around. I could sense it the day the Dark Lord killed Professor Burbage, and again last week when she looked at you in the parlor. She loves you."

"No," said Severus slowly. He did not wish to have this conversation with Draco, but at the same time he couldn't make the issue go away simply by banishing the boy from his office. He had to formulate a response, and make it a convincing one. "I believe you have misinterpreted her emotional state. A common mistake of the unaccomplished Legilimens. The reality is that your mother feels indebted to me because she credits me with having saved you from being killed – either by Dumbledore or the Dark Lord – and I also kept you from becoming a killer. Perhaps she has, in her mind, equated this with some sort of misplaced affection, which I have not reciprocated, not that it is any of your business. Additionally, it may ease your mind to know the night I had to complete your task for you, while I _did_ remain with your mother for several hours, it was _only_ because she was in – how shall I put this? – a delicate mental state. I was concerned. Your father trusted me to keep both of you alive and safe while he was incarcerated and that is what I did. That is _all_ I did. I have no romantic interest in your mother, she certainly does not love me, and there is nothing going on between us."

"With all due respect, Professor, I think you're lying."

Severus leaned forward, tented his hands, and made deliberate eye contact with his godson, almost impressed by the boy's tenacity and temerity. "You're learning Legilimency? Go ahead. See for yourself."

"You're a skilled Occlumens," said Draco. "You'll just block me."

"I give you my word that I won't fight you," countered Severus. "Try."

Draco stood and leaned over Severus' desk, wand in hand. He whispered the incantation and immediately Severus could feel the intrusion into his mind. Much like his aunt, Draco lacked any subtly in this art. Unlike his aunt, though, his attempts to penetrate the recesses of Severus' mind were weak and easy to block. To give the appearance of transparency, Severus shared a carefully selected memory with the boy, from the night he used the Killing Curse on Dumbledore.

 _Severus knocked on the bedroom door. Narcissa opened it, clutching her chest dramatically with one hand. She pulled him through the door with the other._

 _"_ _Please tell me He isn't punishing my son?"_

 _"_ _I don't think so. He seems pleased, even though He wanted Draco to do it and not me. He and Bellatrix are going to flee shortly, but He said to assure you they will return in due time."_

 _"_ _Oh, what a relief," snapped Narcissa. "I'd hate to live for too long under this roof without my criminally insane sister and the man who tried to get my son murdered breathing over me and criticizing my cooking all the damn time." She sighed. "She told me they'd be leaving shortly and I said I'd miss her but… Fuck, Severus. I just want my old bloody life back! I've been pacing since He cast me out and I feel like I'm going to explode or implode or collapse or something. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but something." She was trembling._

 _"_ _I'm going on the run, too," he informed her. "No doubt the Ministry will be after me."_

Severus chose this point to move Draco along, into another slice of memory, just as innocuous, and then another, all short, all unedited, but all featuring moments between the couple that would lead any observer to believe that their relationship was entirely platonic.

After the fourth, Severus closed his mind to the instrusion.

"Will that suffice?" he asked. "If not, ask your mother. I am a busy man."

"My mother has never learned Occlumency. She would not be able to block me," said Draco, as if challenging the Headmaster. Severus shrugged.

"Then perhaps upon completing your investigation into _her_ mind, you will not look upon her with the doubt and disdain you are currently directing toward me."

"I'll be returning home for Easter break," said Draco. "I'll ask her then."

"Feel free," said Severus. "That is between you and your mother. But I have indulged you in this long enough and will not do so again. You may be an adult Draco, but you are still a student and thereby not my equal. I am the Headmaster of this school and therefore require your respect, for as long as you remain a Hogwarts pupil, understand?"

"I understand."

"I understand, _sir_ ," prompted Severus.

"I understand, _sir_ ," echoed Draco. He turned to go, but Severus called him back.

"I realize that the last couple of years have been difficult for you, and I know that you no longer trust me, but I am still your godfather, and as such…" He sighed, considering how to end the statement. Emotional moments were not exactly his forte.

"Please don't assure me you're here if I need a shoulder to sob on or any of that rubbish," said Draco, showing shades of the snooty, spoiled child he'd been, a far cry from the young man he was becoming.

"I wouldn't want anyone sobbing on my shoulders," said Severus. "Not even my only godchild… but I _will_ speak to Professor McGonagall about moving your detention to Sunday. And in exchange, you and I shall never speak of this ridiculousness again."

Draco agreed, though he was not entirely convinced of the honesty of the professor he once considered his favorite. Still, when Severus extended his hand, Draco shook it. He left the office already late for Quidditch practice. Severus tried to return to the paperwork on his desk, but could not concentrate. He had no idea how he'd convince Minerva to move the boy's detention, and even more pressingly, he was now worried that Narcissa's open mind had accidentally revealed more to Draco than the boy admitted. He retrieved the enchanted notebook from his top right drawer and the green quill she'd given him. He was working out what to write to her when Dilys Derwent threw in her two sickles.

"I think you and your lady friend ought to tell the boy the truth. She's mad about you, even her son can see it, so why continue to be in denial?"

"Thank you," said Severus, keeping his back to her, "But I do not recall requesting your advice on this matter."

"I think Dilys is right, Severus," said Dumbledore, no longer pretending to snore. "A little more love in the world…"

"Quiet," interjected Phineas Nigellus Black, returning to his portrait after an entire evening away. "I have news. Potter and friends came upon three men later identified as Ted Tonks, Dean Thomas, and Dirk Cresswell. I believe they are hiding in a forest. The trio did not reveal themselves to the men, but overheard their conversation. The men said the Prophet is reporting that Harry Potter is responsible for Dumbledore's murder…"

"We already know that!" said Dilys. Phineas Nigellus glared at her, angry about being cut off. He waited until Severus was facing him, giving full attention, before going on.

"And that the Quibbler is the only publication reporting the truth."

"We already knew that, too!" said Dilys.

Severus held up his hand. "Dilys, please. Is that all, Phineas Nigellus?"

"That is all for now," the man said crossly.

"Keep listening," ordered Severus. "I want to know where they are."

"They won't reveal that to me!" insisted the portrait of the former Headmaster. "And whenever they've got no use for me, that girl throws me most unceremoniously in her bag. I can't see or hear anything in there once she closes it!"

"Keep listening," repeated Severus. "I need to know more. It is imperative."

Phineas Nigellus Black grumbled at this, but he disappeared from the portrait, to await any information he could gather from being in Granger's possession. Once he'd departed Severus opened the notebook, discovering a new message from Narcissa.

 _My husband has been sent away to complete a task for the Dark Lord. He'll be gone overnight. You should come keep me company. –NM_

 _I can't. Your son has asked that I stopped seeing you. –SS_

She didn't respond right away, which likely meant she wasn't in her bedroom at the moment and had written his message earlier in the day. He used the time before her next response to pay Minerva McGonagall a visit in her office, but she was less than willing to change the date.

"Minerva, please, I ask so little of you."

"And yet here you are!" She shot him a severe look, as if he were the one in trouble and not Draco.

"I am the Headmaster," he reminded her. "I could overrule you, but I've come to appeal to you instead. The students haven't much to look forward to, thanks to current circumstances. Didn't we, as a staff, agree to do all we could to create a sense of normalcy for the students? Is that not why we've continued with Quidditch and Hogsmeade visits and the like?"

"A sense of normalcy does not extend beyond letting students escape their punishments so they won't miss Quidditch. I wouldn't have done that a year ago, five years ago, fifteen years ago, or thirty years ago, and I will not do it now."

"Would you have asked it of a professor when you were a student? I have heard stories about your days on the Gryffindor team. Didn't you break your ribs and get a concussion in a match against Slytherin?"

"What does that matter?" she asked, wondering how he even knew.

"When Dumbledore relayed this bit of history for me, he seemed to find most interesting the fact that you were not even supposed to be playing in the match. He had assigned you detention, hadn't he? Detention that he agreed to reschedule because of your insistence that you not miss the match. He later felt guilty because you'd been so badly hurt when you shouldn't have been playing in the first place."

Minerva's eyes narrowed, but the thin line of her lips slacked slightly, giving Severus the impression she was more malleable to the idea than she'd originally seemed. However, when she replied with, "Were Draco as persuasive as I was in my seventh year, _he_ would be here arguing his own case rather than sending you to do it," he employed another tactic.

"On a related note, what did the girl's parents say when you spoke with them about the indiscretion?"

Minerva's steely gaze faltered. "I… I didn't tell them."

"You didn't tell them?" Severus settled himself into one of the chairs in her sparse office. He picked up a framed photograph from her desk, featuring her and Albus smiling at the Yule Ball three years prior. "Why not?"

She snatched the picture from his hands.

"Astoria assured me that they were only talking and that his ex-girlfriend had said otherwise to damage her reputation. She begged me not to make matters worse by informing her parents. I believed her, thus I agreed not to tell. But I still made her serve detention! Yesterday, in my office."

"How is that fair?" Severus crossed one leg over the other, regarding Minerva carefully. "I informed Draco's parents. His mother was rather upset. I believe she cried."

"She cried?"

(He was weakening her resolve; he could tell.)

"She did. Quite a bit, actually. Which one would think would be punishment enough… but since it is not, I suppose he must miss the match to serve detention… and, to be fair, I must inform the girl's parents, though I'll mention she insists they were only talking…"

"Fine," conceded Minerva. "I will move his detention to Sunday, but not cancel it. He is Head Boy. He was supposed to be patrolling the corridors at the time. He's lucky he hasn't been stripped of the privilege. And I am only doing so in the interest of fairness, not because you've attempted to manipulate me with a literal sob story."

Severus smirked, feeling that manipulating her with a literal sob story was precisely what he'd done. "Then it's settled? He will keep his title and serve detention on Sunday?"

She nodded. "And you won't contact the girl's parents?"

Severus put out his hand, which Minerva shook. "It's a deal."

"Severus?" Minerva moved to the chair behind her desk, returning the photograph to its rightful place on the upper left corner. "Has Dumbledore spoken?"

"It's not him, Minerva. A portrait of a person is a mere memory, preserved in paint."

"A mere memory preserved in paint is better than nothing."

Severus closed his eyes for the briefest moment, remembering how it had felt to see himself beside Lily in the Mirror of Erised several years back. In his reflection he'd seen himself with his left arm around Lily's waist. She was beautiful, and pregnant, with a ginger-haired, dark-eyed toddler son on her hip. Severus had his right arm around an older child, a daughter with his long black hair and Lily's green eyes. A family. The family he'd wanted and couldn't have. Though he knew it was an impossible dream or something that had never been and could never be, he was unable to stop looking, to stop imaginging this as reality. Severus had told Dumbledore at the time, "An image in glass is better than nothing."

Minerva's words had therefore brought his own back to him, prompting him to respond with the same words Dumbledore had said to him (words that, unbeknownst to him, had also been directed toward Harry Potter when he returned to the mirror for the third or fourth night in a row). "Minerva, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

"What?" Clearly, based on her perplexed expression, she didn't think this advice sounded like him.

"Just a word of caution from an old friend. Do with it what you will."

She adjusted her tall pointed hat, which had shifted slightly when she leaned forward to place the picture, and asked casually, "Will you ever tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"What happened that night in the Astronomy Tower?"

Slowly, Severus shook his head. "Minerva, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

They had no further business, thus said goodbye and parted ways. Though he had always been a rather solitary man, Severus couldn't help feeling a slight pang for the days when he could talk Quidditch with Minerva, or engage Fillius in a wizards chess game, or eat a quiet meal with Septima Vector in her study (not that he was interested in a physical relationship with her anymore). He even missed the occasional cordial chat with Charity Burbage, Poppy Pomfrey, and Horace Slughorn in the staff room. Allegedly murdering the beloved Headmaster of the school at which they were all employed had a way of separating him from his colleagues.

By the time Severus returned to his office, Narcissa had sent her reply. Replies.

 _Please tell me that's a joke. –NM_

 _Severus? You're not serious. –NM_

 _What did Draco say? Does he know? How would he know? –NM_

 _Severus! –NM_

 _I told you, Narcissa. He said, "I want you to stop seeing my mother." –SS_

 _Why does he think you're seeing me? –NM_

 _He says he saw me leaving around dawn the morning I completed his task as assigned by the Dark Lord. He also said your sister began teaching him Legilimency over the summer. He couldn't see your memories, but he could sense your emotions, namely the day the Lestranges brought the Muggle Studies professor to Malfoy Manor, and then again last Sunday. –SS_

 _What did YOU say? –NM_

 _I assured him he is mistaken, that he misread your emotions, which is a common error for new practicers of Legilimency. Very few people possess the natural talent for that magic, and of those who do, most will never master it. I haven't, nor has your sister. Even so, we need to work on your Occlumency abilities. There is a Quidditch match tomorrow. The entire school will be in attendance. I missed the last two, thus I do not think anyone will be suspicious if I fail to attend. Is it possible for you to meet me at my home on Spinner's End for a lesson? 2:00. –SS_

 _I don't know. I'm still unable to apparate off the grounds and Lucius was clear that it would be in my best interest to remain home. Can't you come here? Tonight? I'll make it worth the trip. –NM_

 _I cannot, not tonight. The Dark Lord has been very clear that I am to remain on school grounds at night, and just as you do not wish to defy your husband, I do not wish to deny our Master. –SS_

 _The Dark Lord is not my Master. Neither is Lucius. No one is. I had an illuminating week and have come to the conclusion that I am my own master. –NM_

 _This sounds like something I'll be hearing more about. –SS_

 _Yes, you will. I'll meet you tomorrow at your home on Spinner's End at 2. You can hear about it then. –NM_

 _You will? How will you get there? –SS_

 _I don't know. I'll figure out a way. –NM_

Narcissa closed her notebook, ignoring whatever response Severus wrote, and tossed it down onto the bed in the room off the nursery, where she'd been sleeping all week. Since her husband was not expected back for at least twenty-four hours, she considered gathering her things and returning to the master bedroom, but decided against it, on principal. She'd said she needed space and she'd meant it.

They'd gone out to dinner on Sunday, to a Muggle restaurant where there was almost zero chance of running into anyone they knew from the Wizarding world.

Bellatrix was in a lovely mood and completely oblivious to the tension being given off by the three Malfoys. She had brought the long scarf she frequently used to attach the baby to her so she could have her hands free and talked at length about all of the "milestones" her daughter was already hitting – recognizing her mother's voice, calming when held, and sucking on her own hand, none of which Narcissa thought were terribly impressive, but Bella insisted Nova was doing all of these things earlier than other babies, which clearly indicated she must be a genius.

Lucius acted as though nothing was wrong, as if he and his wife hadn't just had the biggest and worst fight of their entire twenty-five year marriage, as if the foundation of their entire relationship hadn't more or less collapsed in on itself after years of barely patched structural damage. Lucius told Draco multiple times that he was both proud of him and glad that he was popular, lamented that his removal from the Board of Governors meant he had no clout and therefore could not help protect his son's position as Head Boy, and assured them all that he was certain he was only one successful assignment away from being back in the Dark Lord's good graces.

Draco tried to set aside his discomfort but could barely eat. He answered a number of questions about school and his friends, and even shared with his father and aunt for the first time his dream to play professional Quidditch someday, but he changed the subject whenever his father tried to press him on the subject of the girls or when his aunt tried to bring up ways he could better serve the Dark Lord, and he hardly looked at his mother at all.

Meanwhile, Narcissa silently fumed for several reasons, not the least of which was the fact that she'd tried to order a glass of red wine with dinner only for her husband to tell the waiter she would have sparkling water instead. She was angry at him for the events of the afternoon and angry with herself for allowing herself to be momentarily placated by memories of a happier time. She was also angry at her son for having sneaked off of school grounds, because if he hadn't been home, he wouldn't have heard. She was even angry at her sister, for seemingly doing a better job at motherhood than she'd done (though her issues hadn't started until Draco was older than Nova).

That night Narcissa and Lucius slept in the same bed, but felt a world apart despite being less than an arms length from each other. The next morning they shared a quiet, early, elf-made breakfast with Draco before sending him back to school, then she returned to the bedroom and began tossing necessities into the carpet bag.

"What are you doing?" asked Lucius, who'd just come in on his way to take a shower.

"I'm sleeping across the hall, indefinitely, in the room off the nursery." In went several nightgowns, a pair of slippers, and undergarments.

"What?" Lucius sat on the edge of the bed. "Why?"

"Because it's the only currently unoccupied bedroom." (The Dark Lord had allowed Wormtail to take the bedroom just vacated by the Rowles.)

"No, I mean why aren't you going to be sleeping here? With me? Your husband."

"You were going to hit me yesterday, Lucius. And that's not even the worst of it. I don't know that I can ever forgive you for what you told Draco. I have never in all my life been so hurt."

"Never? Narcissa, don't you think that's a bit of hyperbole, considering?"

She rounded on him, the fury she'd been burying all night and morning finally brimming up to the surface. "Considering my awful childhood? No. Because I came to expect the sort of hurt I experienced then, but I never expected this. Not from you."

"I'm sorry, Narcissa. I told you I'm sorry!"

She shook her head. "Sorry isn't enough this time, Lucius."

He moved to her, taking the carpet bag from her hands and placing it on the bed. He slid his arms around her waist. "Remember the first fight we had after we got married? Remember how…"

"No! Stop it! This is what you do and I fall for it every damn time. Every damn time I'm angry with you, you ask if I remember something from our past, something that softens me or makes me laugh or reminds me of why I've loved you for so long, and then in the moment I'm pacified and sweet on you and we end up cuddling or kissing or in bed and by the time we're done I've forgotten why I was angry in the first place. That's how it's been for almost thirty years."

"I know," said Lucius, though he stepped away from her. "I like cuddling and kissing and making you forget why you were angry in the first place."

"Well, it won't work this time, Lucius." She retrieved the carpet bag, waved her wand, and levitated several long dresses and robes into it. "It almost worked last night, when you reminded me about Draco in the tapas place, but then you wouldn't let me order my own drink–"

"For your own good, Narcissa! You're an alcoholic!"

"You're a wife beater!"

"I didn't beat you! I didn't even hit you!"

"You were going to!"

He threw up his arms and plopped back on the bed. "You're going to hold against me what I was going to do? For how long? Need I remind you that I didn't hold what you were going to do against you…"

"What _I_ was going to do?" She tossed the bag aggressively onto the dresser, then opened one of the drawers, seeking nylons. "All I did was cower and cry!"

"Not today! I meant when you nearly suffocated our son…"

"Don't!" Narcissa turned away from the dresser, facing Lucius, and pointed a single finger in his direction. "Don't pretend you haven't held that against me! You and I both know you've been holding it against me for over seventeen years! I'm sorry, Lucius! I'm sorry I was a rotten mother. I'm sorry I didn't give you more children. I'm sorry I'm not the same sort of wife to you that your mother was to your father! But I'm not going to let you call me an alcoholic and I'm not going to risk letting you hit me and I'm not going to be cheated on anymore. I'm done! You say your mind isn't the same since Azkaban? Well, mine wasn't the same after childbirth. But I dealt with it and you have to deal with it and while we're dealing with it, I'll be sleeping across the hall!" She grabbed the bag and took it with her into the loo, adding to it her hairbrush and comb and toothbrush.

"I _am_ sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I raised a hand to you. I am sorry I told Draco about the pillow incident. I am sorry for everything, Narcissa. For Juliet, for your niece, for Endora Selwyn, hell, I'm even sorry for Eleanor Nott, and nothing even happened with her! But I am _not_ sorry that I told the waiter to serve you water instead of wine last night. You _are_ an alcoholic, Narcissa. You drink too much and too often. You drink every night before bed. You drink every night with dinner. You wake up with hangovers, you pass out when you've had too much – Squeakers told me you've even been drinking with breakfast on occasion!"

She exited the bathroom, the bag too full to close, and placed it on the bed to shrink some of the contents. "You have the house elf spying on me?"

"For what it's worth, she didn't like doing it. She ironed her own fingers after, as punishment."

"I don't need alcohol," Narcissa insisted as she retrieved several vials of Dreamless Sleep, her recently brewed Draught of Peace, and a Ten Hour Sedative from her top dresser drawer. "Alcoholics need it. I don't need it. I just like it. And I'm not going to let you do this."

"Do what?"

"Turn it around on me. I'm sleeping separately from you because you hurt me, physically and emotionally, not because I have an alcohol problem, and I'm not going to let you make this my fault so that it'll end with me apologizing to you and begging to be let back in my own bedroom. What you told Draco was cruel, Lucius. And what you said to me before it – about being nothing, about being poor and friendless…"

"I already apologized for that! You were never nothing, Narcissa."

"If you said it, a part of you must have meant it."

"I said it because I wanted you to feel as badly as I felt!"

"Well congratulations then, darling, it worked." The vials went into the bag. She was now completely packed. All she needed was a better place to run away to, farther away than across the hall, but there weren't exactly an abundance of options.

"I _am_ sorry, though, Narcissa!" Lucius rose and tried to take his wife's hand but she pulled away. "I am sorry I said it. I'm sorry I raised my hand. I'm sorry I haven't been faithful to you. How many times can I say I'm sorry? In how many ways?"

"Empty words, Lucius."

"Then what do you want from me? I stopped seeing her!"

"It's not about her. Not anymore."

"Then what is it about?"

"You truly don't get it, do you? You think I'm a terrible mother. You think I'm a terrible wife. You've made it abundantly clear that we are not equals, you've treated me horribly, and you think 'I'm sorry' is enough to make it all go away? Why do you even want me to share a room with you, Lucius? To share a bed? You can have better sex with other women. We're not having any more children. Our son is grown. Why do you want me to remain married to you? Why should I _want_ to remain married to you?"

"Because I love you, Narcissa. _I love you_." Again he tried to take her in his arms. Again she removed herself from his attempted embrace. He sighed. "Don't you love me?"

"At the moment, Lucius, I honestly don't know."

"Very well," he said, clearly defeated. "Sleep in the room adjacent to the nursery, if that's what you think is best. But I love you, and I've stopped seeing her, and I'll figure out a way to make it up to you, alright?"

She zipped the carpet bag, lifted her fluffy, monogrammed bathrobe off its hook, slung it over her arm, and faced him.

"We may be too far gone," she whispered. "I don't know that we can come back from this."

"Didn't you tell me we can't go back?" asked Lucius, looking pained. "Only forward. Let's move forward together, Narcissa."

"I don't know if we can, Lucius. I don't know that I want to. I don't know anything anymore."

They'd barely spoken since.

Narcissa had hardly spoken to anyone, actually. The Rowles had gone, the Lestrange brothers weren't worth her time, and Bellatrix was so entirely consumed by her daughter she didn't seem to notice her sister's sudden distance. She hadn't even been writing to Severus much, until Lucius told her he'd be out for at least twenty-fourh hours and practically begged her to promise to stay home while he was away.

She'd spent her time thinking.

Mostly while baking.

She was becoming a damn good baker.

She'd baked at least one dessert each day, in addition to cooking all of her own meals, which she'd then leave warming in the oven or on the stove for Lucius, who no longer chastised her for her time spent in the kitchen, and Bellatrix, who couldn't be bothered to cook or even to order the house elves to cook for her.

It was on Thursday, while mixing icing for the cake she had just placed in the oven, that Narcissa had a series of small epiphanies while mentally dissecting her present state and all that had led to it.

Until a couple of years ago, her life had been good. Sure, she hadn't like being certain her husband was cheating again. It had bothered her. But ever since the Endora Selwyn disaster, he'd been careful to ensure that his affairs never came home, so to speak. He treated his wife like his wife and his mistresses like they were entirely separate from the life he shared with his wife. For over twenty years, Lucius and Narcissa slept together regularly, complimented each other well, and reveled in both their lifestyle and in their elevated status among the rich and pureblood uppercrust of wizarding society. Behind closed doors, her life was wrapped up in being a better mother to her son than her mother had been to her and her sisters, in part to make up for what she viewed as her exceptional failings in his first eighteen months, but mostly because she loved nothing more than being a mother. Oh, and shopping. She did a lot of shopping.

But in November, 1995, her life began to change. She now knew that that was when her husband had been sleeping with her niece, Nymphadora, on the Dark Lord's command, but at the time she didn't know with whom he was spending his evenings, and it hurt. It hurt because it was the first time since February 1973 that they'd gone an entire month without having marital relations. And then December was the same. And January. And February. And March.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

She could deal with a lack of sex. She generally wasn't in the mood for it, anyway. But the lack of intimacy bothered her. He wasn't holding her while they slept. He wasn't usually home for dinner. He wasn't talking to her about anything that extended beyond surface level – "Have you written to Draco?" "Did you order powdered moonstone?" "Crazy weather, eh?" – and, since the Dark Lord's less-than-successful return, they hadn't been going out or throwing parties. There was a new tension in the air, and it extended from the cemetery in Little Hangleton to their bedroom in Malfoy Manor.

That's why she'd approached Severus. She wasn't simply looking for something physical, as she'd led him to believe. She was lonely. She was lonely and insecure and frustrated.

She'd picked Snape specifically because he was so unlike Lucius. His looks, his mannerisms, his lifestyle, his personality… all as different from her husband as he could be without being on the same side of the spectrum as Walden Macnair or Vincent Crabbe. She considered him a friend and therefore trusted him not to tell, even if he'd ended up turning her down, and she had the feeling he would know how to satisfy a woman even though she rarely saw him with one. Plus she could see herself being attracted to his broad shoulders and mysterious dark eyes, if she overlooked his protruding nose and use of cheap shampoo. And she liked the timbre of his voice.

Only three months later, her husband failed to gather the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, was arrested, and sent to Azkaban. And she's missed him. Desperately. Because despite the last year, she'd loved him, just as he loved her.

When he was released, freed by the Dark Lord, she'd expected to feel relieved, which she was, and she'd expected their lives to go back to the way they were before, which they hadn't. He'd pulled away from her and she'd let him.

Now?

Now she wasn't sure he she'd pulled away from.

She wasn't sure to whom she was married.

Not anymore.

Even more alarming, she didn't know to whom her husband was married.

While mixing the icing, Narcissa realized what she'd sought with Severus was never about sex or even about loneliness. It was more than that. It was about intimacy. The more she got what she needed from Severus, the less she needed it from Lucius, which is ultimately what led to her falling asleep fantasizing about a future with him, envisioning them raising babies they'd never have, living in a home they'd never share, and exchanging words of affection that didn't stop short of "I love you."

Which was wrong.

It was wrong to transfer her affections from Lucius to Severus as if she needed a man to feel as though she had worth. This was, of course, the message her mother had raised her to believe. She'd believed it for 43 years.

43 years and five days.

Not anymore.

"Damn it, Mother," Narcissa said aloud. The tip of her wand lit up and emitted three beeps, indicating the cake could come out of the oven, so she set down the icing and used her wand to levitate the cake from the oven to a trivet on the center of the stove top.

"You frequently curse Mother's name too?" asked Bellatrix, entering the kitchen. "I curse her memory every damn day of my life. Happiest moment of my Azkaban stay was when you visited to tell me she'd croaked. I only wish I could have been there to see her on her deathbed."

"I don't want to talk about Mother." Narcissa pressed the back of her index finger to the cake. Too hot to frost.

"I figure I'm going to raise my daughter by asking myself, 'What would Mother have done?' every time I'm not sure what to do, and then I'll do the opposite of that." Bellatrix, baby-free for a change, settled into a chair at the table and summoned the bowl of icing over. She swiped a bit from the inside of the bowl.

"I didn't hate Mother as you did." Narcissa took the bowl back. "Keep out. I need it for the cake."

"Is that chocolate cake?"

Narcissa looked at it cooling on the stove then looked back at Bellatrix. "No, it's lemon."

"Don't go being bitchy with me, Cissy. It's not my fault your husband threw you out."

"He didn't throw me out."

Bella twirled her wand. "I noticed you've been sleeping across the hall."

"He didn't throw me out. I threw myself out."

"Why?"

Narcissa shrugged. She checked the cake again. Not cool enough. Bellatrix again summoned the bowl of icing her way and ate a little more, this time off the spatula her sister had been using to stir. Narcissa stopped her before she stuck it back in.

"You're worse than a child, Bella. Keep out of my icing."

"What good is it if I can't eat it?"

"You can eat it once it's on the cake."

"What if I don't want cake?"

"Please. I know you. You'll want cake. It's chocolate."

"You said it was lemon." Bella smiled. Narcissa couldn't help smiling back.

"I lied."

As soon as the cake was frosted, Bellatrix insisted upon taking a piece, which she brought back to her bedroom, explaining that she needed to check on the baby.

The following day, Friday, the Dark Lord assigned Lucius a new task.

"You have failed me twice. First, when you failed to protect the blank book I'd placed in your possession during the First War. Then, when you failed to retrieve the prophecy. Do not do so again, or it shall be the last thing you do. I do not respond with forgiveness to those who fail me three times."

Narcissa didn't know what Lucius was supposed to be doing or when exactly he'd be back, but she had wished him luck before he left – and she'd packed him a satchel of food, including a sizable piece of the chocolate cake. It was about the nicest gesture she could muster, though she did it out of guilt, not love or loyalty.

Then she'd penned her invite to Severus, hoping he'd spend the night.

He said no.

He said he'd see her tomorrow at Spinner's End instead.

He said they needed to practice Occlumency.

But she needed much more than that.

* * *

 **A/N: Review Responses**

 **Batman from Kawaii** – Thanks for your feedback! My intention was for Narcissa to start off weak (but with a snobby exterior) then become stronger over time, leading up to her defiance of the Dark Lord during the Final Battle (sort of the opposite of her sister who seems strong but is ultimately ruled by Voldemort) but your comment made me realize I've probably not had her grow enough to be where she should be at this point, so I moved some later stuff here and fiddled with it with the hope of making her more 'badass' over the next few chapters. I hope it works. If you keep reading, please let me know what you think! Thanks again.

 **Stefangelina** – Sorry! I hope this chapter and the next help to rectify that. I wanted her to have an emotional crisis based on an insecurity/guilt she's been plagued by since Draco was a baby, but my thought is that having it out in the open leads to finally being able to heal and grow from it. I'd like to know what you think after reading the chapters that follow this one (39  & 40). Thanks! :) To your other Q, I edited it to be clearer, but I meant because she's sleeping with two men at the same time, which she views as 'whorish,' because she's having a hard time wanting to be faithful to Severus while also fulfilling her duty as a wife. That'll be more important in Chapter 40 though. I can't stand Lucius at the moment either, which is a problem since he lives and Severus doesn't... *sob*

 **Harry Hobbit** – I don't know where Bella was. Probably doing baby stuff. Lol. Just playin'. Happy Holidays to you, too!

 **Elphaba** – That's precisely what I was going for. She should've seen a Healer, right?!

 **Guest** – Thanks. I hope the Draco explanation answers your question! :)

 **lala1224** – Thank you! I like the idea of Draco leaving Pansy behind (never liked her… does anyone?) and beginning to form a sweet, more grown up and lasting relationship with Astoria.

 **Karli1252** – The portraits were my favorite to write. Much fun! Thx!

 **Everything Hurts** – Thanks!

 **PS:** To respond to the note about Narcissa being from a well off family – that's correct, though the way I've constructed the Black sisters' past is that they were born and raised privileged (though certainly not as wealthy as the Malfoys) but after their father's death their mother worried there wasn't enough to keep her in the lifestyle she desired (he hadn't managed his wealth as well has his brother, the father of Sirius and Regulus), thus she remarried for money and security, but upon her second husband's murder, their mother discovered that the girls' stepfather had squandered most of the money, including what her first husband had left, leaving the family with almost nothing. This is partly why it was so important to their mother that her daughters, especially Narcissa, marry wealthy, pureblood men (they didn't want to end up like the Gaunts or others in similar situations, with noble names and nothing to show for it). Anyway, I go into this more in depth in my not-yet-posted fic about their childhood, which is why it's not really a central element here, though I think I alluded to it in this fic a bit and mentioned it in one of the already-posted Bella fics. I might work more in about that here somewhere too. Thx again!

 **-AL**


	39. Afternoon at Spinner's End, March 1998

**A/N:**

Here's a mostly fluffy chapter to ring in the New Year on a happy note! I spent NYE watching Casablanca for the first time and seeing a lot of parallels between that and this little love story that I may work in later.

For those curious about when Juliet will return and subsequently learn her place one and for all, you'll be glad to know the wait is almost over... it's in Chapter 40 (up next).

There are 50 chapters total, plus an epilogue set at the end of Cursed Child (so expect spoilers for that) because ultimately this is Narcissa's story and even after the Dark Lord's fall, her life goes on, albeit forever changed.

Each chapter gets more difficult for me to write, edit, and post, since each one brings me closer to the Final Battle, but I'm trying not to let too much time pass between updates. Review responses will be at the end of the next chapter for 38 & 39.

Thanks for reading!

 **-AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-nine – Afternoon at Spinner's End, March 1998**

At 1:48, Narcissa left Malfoy Manor to head to the apparition point on the grounds, on her way to Spinner's End to see Severus. She felt sick to her stomach for no discernible reason, except perhaps because it would be the first time they'd seen each other since he'd witnessed the fight between her and Lucius nearly a week before. So much had passed in the last several days, though, she felt as though six weeks had passed since they'd last been together rather than six days. She wasn't sure they'd have time for Occlumency once she was through catching him up.

The day had started ordinarily enough. She awoke slightly hungover for the first time in awhile, since Lucius had banished all liquor from the home forcing her to order red wine to be delivered by Owl and it hadn't arrived until Friday afternoon. She hadn't had much, she hadn't even finished the bottle, but the lingering headache and nausea served as a reminder that Lucius wasn't entirely wrong when he accused her of having an alcohol problem. Not that she'd admit it to him. Besides, as she'd said, she didn't need wine to get through the day – she just liked it.

She slept later than she usually did, brushed her hair and teeth, then threw on a long, plain witch's robe (black, as usual) over her nightgown and joined her sister in the kitchen for a late breakfast. Bellatrix was breastfeeding Nova at the table while sipping coffee, not a typical beverage for the eldest Black sister. She was wearing two-pieced Muggle pajamas that buttoned down the front, her wild hair was uncombed, and she had dark circles under her heavy-lidded eyes. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days. Narcissa sat across from her and stole a piece of toast off her plate, then summoned over the coffee pot and a mug.

"You look awful, Bella."

"Fuck off."

Narcissa was not bothered by the hostility. "Do you want me to watch the baby for a couple of hours so you can sleep?"

"I don't need your help." Bellatrix set down her mug to readjust her daughter's position. "I can do it all myself."

"Of course you can," said Narcissa, secretly glad to see that motherhood was taking its toll on her sister, though this pettiness gave her a pang of guilt. "But should you change your mind, I'm here until two with nothing to occupy my time."

"So get a hobby," snapped Bellatrix. "Knit something."

"I have a hobby," Narcissa reminded her. "I cook. And I read. Reading is a hobby."

"Fuck reading. Fuck cooking. Fuck hobbies and fuck you."

"You're pleasant this morning," Narcissa said sarcastically. She used her wand to summon the sugar to the table then spooned a healthy amount into her coffee. "It's like you're a teenager again."

Bellatrix glared at Narcissa, glanced down at the baby she was nursing, then dragged her gaze back up to meet her sister's. "I'm sorry, Cissy. I didn't sleep. I haven't slept. I put her down and she's quiet and I get into bed, but it's as if she can sense when I'm finally dozing off, and she starts to cry. I wish I could sleep while holding her, but I'm terrified I'll roll over and squish her. I don't understand why this is happening. She wasn't like this before. I've lost all control over her."

"She's not even a month old yet, Bella. She's not going to sleep all through the night. And don't be distressed about losing control - you never had control. The baby has the control. That's how babies work."

"She's got a rash, Cissy," Bellatrix whined. "I change her as soon as I know she's wet but she's got a rash anyway. Her little bum's all red."

"They make a cream for that; it's better than the spell. I'll pick some up today, and maybe a toy for her, she should be able to hold soft toys now. I'll go to a Muggle shop to avoid being seen… if I can borrow a lock of your hair."

"A lock of my hair? Why?"

But before Narcissa could answer, Rodolphus entered. He halted and sneered as soon as he saw his wife and the baby.

"I really wish you'd do that rubbish elsewhere, Bellatrix."

"Which rubbish, Rodolphus? Eating toast or drinking coffee?"

"Breastfeeding that baby!" he snarled. "Can't you cover up? It's not appropriate in the common areas. What are you going to do when Draco is back for Easter break in a couple of weeks? You can't have your tits out all over the Manor while he's home. Right, Narcissa?"

Narcissa sipped her coffee as if she hadn't heard the question.

"Why?" asked Bellatrix. "You think my nephew's unaware of the fact that women have breasts for the purpose of feeding babies? You think this bit of basic knowledge has completely escaped him? You think he'll be shocked to learn that women's bodies have a function that extends beyond being visually appealing for men?"

Rodolphus scoffed. "Get off your high hippogriff. I just meant he doesn't need to see it, and neither do I!"

"I'm your wife, Rodolphus. You've seen my chest before. You've seen all of me before. Hell, you've practically _done_ this to me before, albeit with an entirely different intention."

"Ew," said Narcissa under her breath.

"That's digusting," Rodolphus said. He poured the last of the coffee into a mug.

"Don't you worry, my darling husband," Bellatrix said, smirking at him. "I find the notion of foreplay with you just as disgusting as you find the notion of foreplay with me, the primary difference being for you, this disgust is relatively new, whereas I've been battling it our entire marriage."

He grumbled an indistinguishable response as he added milk to his coffee. Rabastan entered moments later as Bellatrix was unlatching the baby, moving her into burping position.

"Must you do that in the kitchen?" Rabastan asked, looking at her with an air of revulsion.

"Fine! From now on, I'll feed my damn baby under a blanket in the dungeon so you poor pathetic oversensitive troglodytes don't have to worry about accidentally witnessing it!" She stood, still gently patting the baby's back, and stalked out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.

"Damn it," cursed Narcissa, who wanted her sister in a good mood so she'd give up that lock of hair. She rushed after her. Once in Bellatrix's bedroom, Narcissa was able to get her to give up the baby.

"Let me hold her. I'll burp her, you rest. I'll pick up the cream later today. I just need a lock of your hair…"

"What? Why?" Bellatrix was already reclined on the bed, her eyes closed, apparently having rethought her position on letting Narcissa watch the baby so she could sleep.

"I need to put it in Polyjuice Potion so I can apparate off and on the grounds. I don't have a Dark Mark. Polyjuice is the only way."

"What?" Bellatrix sat up and stared at Narcissa. "That can't work."

"It works."

"But that's not good! The Dark Lord… He… When He finds out… He'll need to… the wards will have to change! It can't be that easy! That means anyone with a flask of Polyjuice and a bit of a Death Eater's hair could get in here!"

"Please, please don't tell Him, Bella. It's my only hope for some semblance of freedom. Please? I'll watch the baby. You sleep. I'll get the cream. It'll take care of the rash, okay? You want the rash taken care of, don't you? You don't want the baby to cry all night, do you?"

"I…"

As if on cue, the baby began to wail. Bella closed her eyes and reclined back onto her pillows.

"Fine. Take my baby, take my hair, hell, cut off my damn arm and just take the Dark Mark. I don't care. I've never been so bloody exhausted in all my life."

Narcissa grinned. "You can keep your arm, Love, but I'll take that hair."

Without opening her eyes, Bellatrix lifted her wand and a chunk of her hair. "Diffindo," she muttered, using the severing charm to lop a small lock off the end. She held it out to Narcissa, who took it as she lightly bounced crying Nova.

"Thanks. I'll bring her to the nursery."

Bellatrix nodded weakly and waved a hand, dismissing them.

Once Narcissa was settled in the rocker, she was able to better soothe Nova. The baby's tears ceased and she stared up at her aunt with wide, dark, curious eyes that were unmistakably her mother's, giving Narcissa the unnerving feeling she was having her mind read.

"Not you too, Nova," Narcissa chided softly. "Someone in this family needs to respect my right to keep private my own thoughts."

As if she understood, Nova's little eyelids drooped and in seconds, she was asleep. Narcissa knew she should set her down, but with nothing better to do, she chose instead to continue holding her, and rocking, and sniffing her hair. She smelled like baby powder.

About 90 minutes later, Nova awoke, wet and hungry. Narcissa changed her (she was indeed in need of diaper cream, but for the moment, Narcissa used the spell to soothe her rash) then fixed and fed her a bottle, not wanting to bother Bellatrix, who clearly needed as much rest as she could get. Besides, Narcissa had another two hours before she had to leave to see Severus, and it wasn't as if she had anything interesting to do in the interim that required being baby-free. She burped the baby, who promptly spit up all over her soft white onesie. Narcissa Vanished the bile but the stench remained, so she slipped quietly into Bella's room for a change of clothes. Bellatrix was sprawled diagonally across the bed, the blankets twisted around her, and she was snoring. Narcissa whispered, "Accio baby onesie!" unsure of where they were kept and from one of the drawers a pale green one flew toward her. She caught it and returned to the nursery, with the diapered-but-otherwise-naked baby in her arms. She then bathed the baby, dressed her, clipped her teeny fingernails, laid her on her tummy for a few minutes, read to her from a battered old copy of Tales of Beetle the Bard she snagged from Draco's room, hummed to her while wandering around the Manor, and finally returned to the bedroom off the nursery. She scrawled a quick note to Severus and slipped the notebook back under her pillow. She had just resettled in the nursery rocker when Bellatrix entered, awkwardly cupping her chest.

"My breasts are leaking," she explained, somehow managing to appear refreshed and drowsy at the same time. "How is my baby?"

"She's fine. She's asleep."

"Can I ask you an uncomfortable question, Cissy?"

"Of course, Bella."

"I... seem to lack... proper bladder control. When I cough, or..."

"Oh, that's normal," Narcissa assured her. "You gave birth only three weeks ago. It takes time for your body to recover. No matter how strong or capable or talented you are, it's not going to happen overnight."

"So when will this stop?"

Narcissa shrugged. "When you die, I presume."

Bellatrix went whiter than usual.

"You're teasing me. Please tell me you're teasing me! Does it get better?"

"I'm mostly teasing you and yes, it will get better. Since we're on the subject of... _you..._ don't take this the wrong way, Love, but you should shower. You're a mess. There's dry spit up on your arm. When was the last time you washed your hair?"

"When was she born?" asked Bellatrix, working one hand through her tangled curls while examining the crusted baby bile on her opposite arm. "I think it was before that."

"She can handle another half hour away from you. Go."

With a nod of resignation, Bellatrix exited, heading back toward her own bedroom. When she returned again, she looked more like her usual self, wearing a floor-length black dress, several rings, a bracelet, and eyeliner, with her hair half pulled up, the most put together she'd been since her daughter was born, save perhaps for the night they'd gone to dinner on Sunday. It was now quarter after one as Narcissa realized with a sense of panic that she hadn't showered or dressed yet, since she'd been so preoccupied with babysitting – which, quite frankly, she enjoyed. Caring for an infant seemed to be a lot easier without the exhaustion, the depression, the crippling fear, or the physical recovery that all came along with having birthed the baby.

Bellatrix tugged Narcissa's hair. "Thanks, Cissy. Going someplace good this afternoon?" She took the baby from her sister's arms and kissed her soft cheek.

"Not really. But I can't keep cooped up here all day every day," Narcissa said, mentally clearing her mind, just in case.

"So long as you don't go off doing anything embarrassing while you look like me."

Narcissa smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it."

At 1:48, Narcissa, disguised as her sister by a half hour's worth of Polyjuice Potion, disapparated from the grounds of Malfoy Manor to Severus' property. She walked to his door and knocked. He opened it partially, and with an expression of suspicion.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"What are you talking about? It's me. Narcissa."

"Is it?"

This is when she remembered that she still looked like Bella.

"Oh! I used Polyjuice Potion to trick the wards! But it's me. I promise, darling."

He stepped back, allowing her to enter, but did not lower his wand.

"Should I tell you something only Narcissa would know?" she asked, moving close to him as he shut the door. "Where to start? I know about all the dirty, secret sex the two of us having been having over the last two years. Should I list for you all of the places we've done it?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Bellatrix Lestrange is a sufficient Legilimens. She could have discovered that."

"In that case, we'll just wait. It'll wear off soon," Narcissa assured him. She slid her hands up his chest and clasped her hands behind his neck. "While we're waiting, let's fool around." She leaned up to kiss him but he withdrew from her grasp.

"Even if you are you, I cannot… while you look like… you're still… no, thank you." He backed up and lead the way from the hall to the sitting room.

"Pity." She began to remove her her outer robe, revealing a long, form-fitting dress that buttoned down the front to her waist. It was off-white with red accents that would match her nails once she changed back. "Shouldn't be long, though. Can I have a glass of wine in the interim?"

He smirked. "Narcissa!" he exclaimed pleasantly. "It _is_ you!"

Her eyes (well, technically Bella's eyes) narrowed with annoyance. She was in no mood to be teased about her alcohol consumption. Other things, sure. But not that. She sat down and crossed her legs. She was wearing her strappy heeled shoes again, the ones she'd kept on during sex last week. The sight of them caused a tightening in his groin that was quickly quashed by the fact that her face still had her sister's appearance. It was a real mindfuck, seeing Bellatrix (in white!) sitting on the couch where he'd once shagged her, but knowing in actuality he was looking at her sister, the only woman he currently desired. In the time it took for Severus to pour the wine and bring it to her on the couch, though, her hair began to fade from black to a mix of dark and blonde.

"It's difficult for me to look at you like this," Severus admitted, going back to the liquor cabinet to pour his own drink, a scotch. "While we're waiting, would you like me to relay to you my conversation with your son?"

"You mean my nephew?"

"That's not funny."

She rolled her eyes and sipped her wine. He told her about the conversation and his worries that Draco hadn't been entirely forthcoming, that he'd actually garnered more information from her thanks to his budding Legilimency abilities than he'd revealed to Severus.

By the time they'd finished their first drinks, Narcissa looked like herself again.

"Better?" she asked, as Severus moved to sit beside her on the couch.

"Much." He wrapped one arm around her waist, drawing her close. She positioned her legs across his lap. He placed a hand on her thigh and kissed her. "Now we can mess around."

This time it was she who said no.

"I want to talk about last Sunday."

He nodded. He figured this would be coming and had been dreading it since they made arrangements to see each other, though he wasn't even certain why.

She told him about going out to dinner, and about the fight with Lucius the next morning as she was packing a bag, and about the following evening, when he asked how long she planned to keep up this "separation," which is when she told him she needed space and time to think and that he would simply have to respect that, and to her surprise he'd agreed.

"I don't want to be with him, Severus," she said, tilting her chin down and looking up at him. She was still half in his lap with one of his arms wrapped around her waist and his opposite hand on her upper left thigh. She placed her palm gently on the center of his chest. "I only want to be with you."

"I want that," said Severus. He placed his index finger under her chin and guided her face toward his. "I want you to be faithful to me."

"I _am_ faithful to you," she whispered, just before their lips met. When they parted, he pulled her all the way into his lap, so that she was sitting on him with her legs curled up to his right, and wrapped his arms more tightly around her.

"We must be careful, Narcissa. More careful than we've been. Especially… now."

"That's why you're teaching me Occlumency, darling."

"We should start."

"Yes." She kissed the corner of his mouth. "We should start. Let's do it."

"With 'it' being an Occlumency lesson."

"Oh," she said, shooting him a teasing smile. "Yes, that's what I meant, too. An Occlumency lesson."

He couldn't help smiling back.

An hour later, Narcissa had managed to push Severus out of her mind dozens of times, but she was still struggling to clear her mind in the first place. She could continue to keep him at bay (at least temporarily) by picturing a blue ocean and brick wall and she was also honing her natural ability to present him with a particular memory as a form of distraction, but without being adept at clearing and thereby closing her mind from intrusion she still left herself open to have her emotions read even by a relatively unskilled Legilimens like her son.

"Let's take a break," he suggested, rising from the couch to get another scotch for himself and a second glass of elf-made wine for her.

"I don't understand how it's possible for Bella to even be teaching Legilimency to my son. Occlumency, I understood. I read that book, remember? But I thought Legilimency required natural talent, that it couldn't be taught."

"That's both true and untrue," said Severus. He sat beside her, handing her the wine glass. "It does require natural aptitude, which cannot be taught, but if one possesses that, one is not necessarily a natural Legilimens. Even the best must be taught to sharpen and control their skills and even the best can both make mistakes and be fooled. The dark wizard Grindelwald is widely believed to have been one of the best Legilimens and Occlumens of all time, but even he was not capable enough to defeat Dumbledore in battle. Dumbledore himself admitted to me that his ability to use Occlumency did not supersede Grindelwald's ability to use Legilimency. Albus triumphed largely because Grindelwald was overconfident, and therefore made errors."

"What of the Dark Lord?" asked Narcissa. "Does He make errors?"

"The Dark Lord is arguably the second most powerful Legilimens to have lived in this century, and likely among the top five ever to have walked the earth, and an exceptionally powerful Occlumens, but yes, he makes mistake, the greatest being that He, like Grindelwald, often underestimates those with whom He is dealing, which is why I am able to keep Him at bay while He's none the wiser. That said, unlike most Legilimens, the Dark Lord can not only rifle through one's mind at will, He can create images, false memories, and visions, that He plants in the minds of victims to torment them. He has done this to your sister; I've witnessed it. She displeased Him once during the First War, and He…" Severus was unable to fight back an involuntary shudder, remembering the way Bellatrix Lestrange had screamed, clawing at her face, desperate to escape whatever it was He was showing her, until she collapsed, sobbing, shaking, bleeding from the scratches made by her own fingernails, and He finally relented, telling the rest in His circle to let that be a lesson to all of them: no one was special enough to escape His wrath. It had taken Bellatrix nearly a week to recover, during which time Severus was tasked with brewing the Draught of Peace and force-feeding it to her multiple times per day until she was again able to speak. Second only to what he believed to have happened in December, Severus thought this was the worst thing the Dark Lord had ever done to one of His followers – even death would be preferable, in Severus' opinion – and both punishments were inflicted upon Bellatrix, the one He clearly valued above all others, which seemed unfair, to say the least. "He both treats her the best and the worst of all His followers. He bestows upon her the greatest rewards and the most respect, but when He feels she has wronged or failed Him, He sees this as a slight far more offensive than those committed by other Death Eaters, and it for that reason He punishes her most harshly."

Narcissa took a long sip of her wine, processing this, while wondering what mental images the Dark Lord forced upon her sister, and why.

"Has He ever done it to you? Planting images?" She lowered her glass and nibbled on her lip.

"No, but it is how He managed to summon Potter to the Department of Mysteries two years ago, which was especially impressive considering the distance between them and the many defensive wards placed around Hogwarts. Typically, though, the Dark Lord is only able to peruse the minds of His victims while they're in His presence, though He does not require eye contact or the incantation as most Legilimens do."

"So my Draco, he has this ability naturally, like his aunt, but he'll need to practice?"

"Yes. He'll need an abundance of practice to cultivate it to the point of being useful against anyone other than you and perhaps your husband. I let him see into my head, but he was both easy to manipulate and easy to force out and he seemed to have no idea when I was doing either. Feeling and recognizing the emotional state of a person one is close to is one of the first signs of a natural aptitude of Legilimency, one that even many Muggles possess, though they call it a 'sixth sense' or chalk it up to being 'in tune' to what their loved ones feel. Curiously, stopping even the weakest Legilimens from sensing your emotions is more difficult than forcing a more accomplished Legilimens out of a particular memory he or she is already witnessing."

"Basically you're saying that Draco is able to read me more easily because we're close, and it will therefore be more difficult for me to block him?"

"Precisely. Which is why you must clear your mind when in his presence."

She nodded and finished the wine. "Severus? You said the Dark Lord is the second most powerful Legilimens of this century. Who's the first? Was it Grindelwald? Or Dumbledore?"

Severus smiled. He enjoyed History of Magic, even though as a student he was as bored by Professor Binns as everyone else at Hogwarts, thus most of what he knew he'd learned on his own. "Neither. There isn't much written about her, but there was an American witch named Queenie Goldstein who could read the minds – literally read the minds – of those around her, even though Legilimency is not, at its core, mind reading. She didn't even need to murmur the incantation to listen to her sister's thoughts even when they were anywhere in the general vicinity of one another, it was simply natural. There's no evidence that even Salazar Slytherin could do that. None of us practicing today – not your sister, not me, not the Dark Lord, not even the late Dumbledore – could manage to penetrate the mind of another in that way. Curiously, it is believed she was not proficient in Occlumency, having never studied it."

"How are you? I mean, comparatively?" asked Narcissa. She slipped her arm around Severus and rested her cheek on his shoulder. He had his drink in his right hand, but placed his left on the small of her back, content to have her close, treating her like the girlfriend he didn't have, as he swore to Dilys Derwent only that morning.

"I am a far better Occlumens than Legilimens, but I am better at Legilimency than Bellatrix. As I believe I told you once before, she lacks subtly, having been taught exclusively by the Dark Lord. Bellatrix uses force to find what she's looking for, whereas I can often slip in and out of a person's mind without that person knowing I've been there."

"Do you do that to me?" She changed positions, straddling him, and cupped his face in her hands. "Darling? Do you slip in and out of my mind without me knowing you've been there?"

"I used to," he confessed. "Now I don't need to. I can tell by looking at you what you're thinking. If you want me to kiss you, you tilt your chin down. If you're nervous or hiding something, you twirl you hair. If you're not sure what to say, or whether you should say anything at all, you bite your lip. If you're annoyed, you narrow your eyes. If you're embarrassed, your cheeks go pink. If you're angry, they go red. When you're trying to seem sure of yourself, you straighten your back and puff out your chest, like a bird. When you're trying not to cry, your nose twitches. When you're flirting with me, your eyes go from gray to silver. You should never play poker, Narcissa. You don't simply have a 'tell,' you have a textbook of tells. A multi-volume encyclopedia of tells. A veritable library of tells. I can read you like a book without ever opening your mind."

She narrowed her eyes, then, realizing she'd done it, widened them, then bit her lip, and, realizing she was biting her lip, she immediately stopped, only to reach up to twirl her hair, and slam her hand back down.

"Damn it!" she cursed, straightening up then crossing her arms over her puffed out chest. "I want to argue with you, but…"

"But your cheeks are pink and getting redder," he said, chuckling. "It's alright. I like that about you. Now tilt your chin down and…"

"And what?" she challenged.

"You know what." He slid his hand up her neck, under the back of her hair, and guided her into a kiss. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and thrust closer as his hands made their way to her arse. When they parted she sat back on his knees.

"I had no idea I had so many 'tells.' You have one, too, you know."

"Do I?"

"Yes. When you don't want to answer a question, you kiss me. I'm right, aren't I? That's what you do?"

"Shh," he said, placing a finger to her lips, which he then replaced with his own, kissing her briefly. "I'd never dream of kissing you to distract you from asking questions."

She giggled. "Very well, then. But I do have one question and I insist that you answer it."

"What's that?"

"What's poker?"

He laughed. "It's a game of cards played by Muggles. Let's do another hour of work then perhaps we can cook and discuss the fine art of poker playing over dinner."

Over the next hour and fifteen minutes, they worked exclusively on clearing the mind and he was impressed by her improvement. This was, for her, the most difficult aspect of Occlumency yet she did better with every attempt.

"Hungry?" asked Severus, glancing up at the clock, which read 4:30. "We could cook."

"Starving," answered Narcissa. "I skipped lunch. What did you have in mind?"

"I don't have a lot of food here, but I picked up a few things this morning. I know it's not much, but I could make scotch eggs?"

"Great! I'll help you. That was a recipe in my cook book, one of my earliest successes. Come along." She stood and took his hand, pulling him up from the couch, but once he was standing instead of leading him toward the kitchen she placed his hand on her lower back and moved flush against him. "Are my eyes gray or silver at the moment?"

"That depends," he said. "Are you flirting with me?"

"I'm trying." She puffed her lips into an exaggerated pout. "But I'm afraid I'm simply no good at it."

"Trust me, you're good at it."

They snogged for several minutes, stopping only because his stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he'd skipped lunch too. They laughed, making their way to the kitchen. He started the eggs boiling and while she nosed about his kitchen, seeking other necessary ingredients. Once the soft boiled eggs were in the water they had a few minutes to spare. He took her in his arms and held her, breathing in the sweet strawberry scent of her hair, not speaking. He didn't invade her privacy to see what she was thinking about, choosing instead to take the moment to reflect upon the conversation he'd had with the various portraits of former headmistresses and headmasters earlier in the afternoon.

 _"_ _So, Severus, when will you be bringing your girlfriend back to the castle to visit us?" asked the ever-nosy Dilys Derwent, who'd been bugging him about her all week._

 _"_ _She is absolutely_ not _my girlfriend, Dilys."_

 _"_ _Of course she's not," agreed Phineas Nigellus Black. "She's married. She's your mistress."_

 _"_ _She'd be his mistress if_ he _were married," argued Elizabeth Burke, a familiar pucker on her pinched face. "_ She's _the one who's married. That just makes her a whore."_

 _"_ _She is_ not _a whore." Severus pointed his wand at the former Headmistress's portrait, even though there really wasn't anything he could do to harm her. "And I will thank you to speak of her with respect going forward – though I'd prefer you refrain from speaking of her at all. As for when you'll see her again…" He turned toward Dilys. "I'm going to work with her on her Occlumency skills this afternoon, and then I'm breaking it off, thus you will not be seeing her here at the castle again."_

 _"_ _What? Why?" exclaimed Dilys. She wasn't the only one._

 _"_ _Severus, for what reason?" asked Dumbledore._

 _"_ _But you like her!" said Antonia Creaseworthy._

 _"_ _And she likes you!" added Edessa Sakndenberg._

 _"_ _It's for her own good," said Severus. "I can only bring her harm."_

 _"_ _Or you can ask her to leave her husband and marry you," said Dilys. "I know I'm an optimist, but I can't help thinking…"_

 _"_ _They're on opposite sides of a war," said Elizabeth Burke. "Besides, she could never disgrace the family name by getting a divorce. She's a Malfoy."_

 _"_ _She's not a Malfoy, she's a Black!" countered Phineas Nigellus._

 _"_ _She's in danger," said Severus. "She's in danger where she is, but she would be in far more danger if she left, and I can only imagine the danger it would put her in if the Dark Lord were to know about us and subsequently discover… where my loyalties lie."_

 _"_ _I don't think you're doing this to protect her," Dumbledore said, staring at Severus thoughtfully over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "I think you're doing this to protect yourself – you don't want to be hurt, and in trying to avoid that, you're going to end up hurting both of you."_

 _"_ _No," said Severus, turning his back to the portraits. "I won't hurt her. That I can promise."_

This conversation replayed through his mind in a flash as he held her. Was he hurting her? Was he hurting her simply by being here together, by holding her, by kissing her, by wanting her? Because despite what he'd said to the portraits, he couldn't imagine breaking it off with her. Not now. Not the way he felt.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, gazing up at him.

"How badly I want you," he said, surprising himself with his honesty. "How badly I want more from you."

"I'll give you all I can," she said, running her hands up and down his arms. "I'll give you everything."

"My Narcissa," he murmured. Their lips met. As they kissed, he lifted her, sitting her on the counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he brought one hand up from her hip, over her chest, to rest on her collarbone. He kissed her chest, just above the neckline of her dress. "Strawberries."

Her eyes were closed, her head tipped back, as he kissed up from her chest to her neck to below her ear. "What?"

"The amortentia you brewed. To me, it smelled like strawberries." His lips moved back down to her jawline, down to her neck, and to her shoulder. He pushed aside the fabric of her dress to kiss the bare skin of her shoulder.

"I brewed it again this week. I had to know." She brushed his hair back from his face, urging him to look at her. "I smelled wine and baby powder and chocolate cake… and soap."

"Soap?"

"Your soap. Like you. It smelled like you. It's supposed to smell like the things each individual is most attracted to, and for me, that's wine and babies and chocolate and… you."

He smiled, the words he'd spoken to Dumbledore hours earlier completely evaporating from his mind as he kissed her again.

They were just starting to get carried away – she had begun unfastening the collar of his robes while his hands snaked up her legs under her dress – when one of them bumped the bowl of cold water and eggs, knocking it off the counter. Thankfully, Severus, quick with his wand, managed to avert disaster by slowing the fall so they could gather the eggs before any hit the floor.

"At least you didn't set my hair on fire again," she teased, placing the bowl back on the counter.

They finished cooking, working together as a team, and sat down to eat. During dinner, after a quick intro to poker ("It would be easier to explain this to you if I had a deck of cards.") the conversation topic wound its way back to the week before and the fight she'd had with Lucius.

"Does it change the way you view me? To know that I… what I nearly… I mean, I… I don't think I would have done it. I never intended to hurt him."

"I believe you when you say you weren't in your right mind then," Severus assured her. "I did a little research on it this week, as a matter of fact, and it's more common than you realize for new mothers to have depression or dark thoughts during the baby's infancy."

They also talked about the war.

"I hate not knowing what's next." Narcissa set down her wine (she was on her third glass). "And I hate myself for not knowing what I want to be next."

They talked about Draco and Astoria.

"Quite honestly, I was rather impressed by him," admitted Severus. "Only a true Slytherin would use his mother's suspected affair with the school Headmaster to get out of serving a detention during a Quidditch match. What's more, I think he was telling you the truth. And I think he genuinely likes this girl."

Once dinner was done she helped him clear the table but was confused when he filled the sink with detergent and water and took out a washcloth.

"What are you doing?"

"Washing the dishes. I don't have a house elf here."

"Aren't you a wizard?" she teased. "There must be a spell for that, darling."

Severus nodded, running a soapy dish under the running water. "My mother used to use one when my father wasn't home, but I never learned any domestic spells."

"How can I help?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "You want to help wash dishes?"

"Well… no. But I will!"

He chuckled, summoning a second cloth from a drawer. "Here." He handed it to her. "You can dry."

Once the kitchen was clean and the dishes were put away, they resumed their earlier positions on the couch under the guise of doing another Occlumency lesson, though this time he tried to penetrate her mind while she was straddling his lap.

"What shall we do after this?" Narcissa kissed his neck. "It's still early."

"It's nearly seven. I must return to Hogwarts."

"The Dark Lord can't perform Legilimency on you from far away, right? So He won't know what time you return. For all He knows, you could be asleep in your bed at Hogwarts right this second now. What's it to Him if you actually spend the night cuddling with me?"

"Didn't I tell you once before that I don't cuddle?"

"Snuggling then."

"I'm certain I said snuggling's worse."

"What do you want, Severus?" She dropped her voice seductively and he couldn't help noticing how silvery her eyes were, though his gaze couldn't stay focused on hers… not when she was lightly running her fingertips against the low neckline of her dress. "Think about it, Severus. Do you want to return to Hogwarts, to spend the night cold and alone in your overlarge bed…" She unbuttoned the first button of her dress. "While I'm forced to return to Malfoy Manor, where I'll spend the night thinking of you…" The second button. "However will I pass the time until I see you again?" The third button. "If only you wanted me…" The fourth button. He could now see all the way down to the central band of her bra. She was wearing the one that had confused him before because it clasped in the front. "But you want to return to Hogwarts, to be a good servant to the Dark Lord…" The fifth button. "That's it, right? That's what you want?" She unbuttoned the final button, simultaneously grinding against his lap. She could tell her attempts to seduce him were working. "Well, Severus? What do you want?"

"Fuck," he swore. He grabbed her arse, thrusting her against him, and captured her mouth with his own. While they kissed, their lips and tongues exploring each other from the shoulders up, her hand snaked down to his groin. She rubbed him through his robe as one of his hands slipped up to her chest, under her open dress, over her bra. He groaned as he squeezed her breast, envisioning her naked, under him, crying out his name. The thought made him groan again as the tightening in his groin increased.

When they parted she asked him again, this time in a whisper.

"What do you want, Severus?"

"What do I want? You want to know what I want? I'll tell you what I want, Narcissa." He slid his hand inside her dress, around to her lower back, bringing her even closer to him. "I want you. I want to go upstairs, toss you on the bed, rip off your dress and anything you're wearing under it, kiss my way down your bare skin, to touch you, to pleasure you..." He moaned, distracted, as she thrust suggestively against his growing erection.

"And?" She whispered. "Then what?"

"And then I want to commence an evening of passionate lovemaking with the woman I l-… I... uh…" His voice trailed off as he realized what he'd nearly said. Weakly, he finished the sentence. "…Like."

Narcissa and Severus made eye contact. She did not react for several seconds, which he found slightly unnerving, and then she collapsed into giggles, which he almost found more unnerving.

"Oh, you smooth-talking romantic, you!" She swatted his chest. "I bet you say that to all the women you try to bed. But for what it's worth, Love, I like you, too."

In direct defiance of both the Dark Lord and her husband, Severus and Narcissa spent the night together at the small house on Spinner's End. They made love twice – once, as soon as he took her upstairs, and again in the morning, before sunrise – and spent the time in between dangerously comfortable in each other's arms.

Narcissa returned to Malfoy Manor before anyone seemed to be awake. She was again disguised as Bellatrix, but thankfully she met no one in the halls, thus did not have to pretend to be her sister. She hopped into the shower in the loo off the bedroom attached to the nursery and was shampooing her hair when it lost the long, dark curls and became a pin-straight mix of black and blonde. This is when she remembered she'd never bought the diaper rash cream or baby toy she'd promised her sister. "Shit," she cursed. She'd have to go out again. Good thing she'd saved some of Bella's hair.

Narcissa had just finished dressing and was heading down to the kitchen for breakfast when the sound of her husband's voice from the dining room distracted her. She stepped through the open door to find him bowing at the feet of the Dark Lord, a chilling sight.

"Let me have the wand," hissed the Dark Lord. Lucius held it up. It was unfamiliar to Narcissa, not belonging to anyone she knew. The Dark Lord took it gingerly from Lucius, weighing it in His hands.

"You led the snatchers."

"I did, my Lord."

"You executed the goblin?"

"I did, my Lord."

"You came upon them in the forest?"

"I did, my Lord."

"They knew nothing of the whereabouts of Harry Potter?"

"They knew nothing, my Lord. We tortured them for hours. They were supporters of Potter, but hadn't seen him."

"How many were wizards were killed?"

"Two."

"Including the owner of this wand?"

"Yes," said Lucius.

The Dark Lord sneered.

"No. That Mudblood was not a wizard and he was never the owner of this wand, Lucius. It must have been stolen from a witch or wizard deserving of the magical power it helps harness."

"I… I apologize, my Lord. I meant… I merely meant that we killed the man in possession of that wand."

"That's right," the Dark Lord said, a thin smile forming across his nearly nonexistent lips. "Tonight you shall bring this happy news to your niece. She should be the first to know her Muggle father is dead."

Narcissa's hand flew over her mouth to stifle a gasp. He had to be talking about Andromeda's husband, Ted Tonks.

"Yes, my Lord. May I… may I keep his wand, my Lord? I… I have been using borrowed wands all these months. If I could…"

"This wand?" asked the Dark Lord, holding it up high. He motioned for Lucius to stand. "You wish to keep this wand, Lucius?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"I'll make a deal with you. Bring me Potter…" the Dark Lord snapped Ted Tonks' wand in half, tossing the two pieces to the floor at Lucius's feet. "And you may have _his_ wand."

The door at the opposite end of the dining room creaked. It was a second before the entrants came into view – Dolohov and Rowle, led by Bellatrix.

"Lucius has completed his task to my satisfaction," hissed the Dark Lord, glaring at the men through the snake-like slits of his red eyes. "Did you?"

"We… uh… we need more time, my Lord," said Dolohov, avoiding eye contact. "They overpowered us, but we can go back and try again..."

"Bella, do I enjoy being let down by my followers?"

"No, my Lord," she said. Bellatrix was standing as Severus claimed Narcissa did when trying to appear better than those around her, with her back straight and chest puffed out, but unlike when Narcissa did it, her arrogance was not in any part an act.

"Do I show mercy to those who have let me down more than twice, Lucius?"

"No, my Lord."

Whereas Bellatrix was smiling, at peace, clearly enjoying this, Lucius looked nervous and sick.

"Bella, show Dolohov what happens to those who have let me down."

"Gladly, my Lord." Bellatrix lifted her wand, pointed it at Dolohov, and called out in tone as merry as if she were wishing Happy Christmas, "Crucio!"

Dolohov doubled over, wheezing, in pain. This was not enough. The Dark Lord motioned for her to do it again. Bellatrix, grinning, shouted the curse a second time.

"Crucio!"

This time Dolohov fell to his knees and then onto his face. Narcissa flinched as his forehead smacked hard on the wood floor.

"Crucio, Crucio, Crucio!" Bella sang out delightedly, throwing it at him three more times. He twitched and writhed on the floor, tears streaming freely from his eyes. Narcissa's hand went from her mouth to her stomach. She suddenly felt as though she might vomit. Over the past couple of years, living with her sister, getting to know her again, and especially seeing her as a mother, it had been easy to forget that _this_ was the Bellatrix who existed to most of the Wizarding world. Her sister was a known sadist, an eager follower of the Dark Lord, His protégé, perhaps the only one in His inner circle who truly enjoyed inflicting torture upon others as much as their Master. Not that there weren't other sadists among his followers, Dolohov and Rowle among them. But Bellatrix Lestrange was in a class by herself, a true believer in the Dark Lord and supporter of all of His methods of punishment, even those that had been used most mercilessly against her.

It was difficult, to say the least, for Narcissa to look upon her sister this way. Suddenly, the youngest Black sister was all-too aware of her position as the wife of a Death Eater. All-too aware of the fact that below her, in the dungeon off the basement, they were holding prisoners. All-too aware of the fact that her other sister's beloved husband was now most unfortunately dead.

"Lucius, you are still in possession of the wand borrowed from Rabastan Lestrange?"

"I am, my Lord."

"Good." The Dark Lord gestured toward Thorfinn Rowle. "Use it to teach him the lesson Bellatrix taught Dolohov."

Lucius pulled out the wand, faced Rowle, and said coldly, completely without emotion, "Crucio!"

Narcissa backed out of the room. Thankfully no one had seen her. By some miracle she'd even managed to clear her mind while watching, sufficiently enough that no one suspected she was there, but she didn't think that could extend to watching her husband torture their former house guest. It had been painful enough watching Draco do it at the end of the summer on the Dark Lord's orders, and she knew his curses were far less powerful than those of his father or aunt.

An hour or so later, Lucius knocked on the door to the bedroom off the nursery. Narcissa granted him entrance.

"I have completed my task," he said. "Are you ready to return to our bedroom tonight? I… I would like you… there. With me."

"I'm sorry," she said. It was the truth. She was sorry, sorry for their whole fucked up situation, but the truth of the matter was that she had no desire to return to the bed of her husband, not now, perhaps not ever, and especially not after having spent yet another night in the embrace of a man who'd spent half that time telling her all of the things he loved about her as she reciprocated with a list of all she loved about him.

"I miss you," Lucius said quietly. He motioned toward the end of her bed. "May I sit?"

She nodded, curling up her legs, resting her back against the headboard. Lucius sat facing away from her, staring down at his hands.

"Andromeda's husband is dead. We're no closer to finding Potter than we've been since he turned seventeen. The Dark Lord was satisfied by my work this week but He says it will take more than kidnapping a goblin and killing a Muggleborn to get back in His good graces. He also said He is looking forward to having Draco back for Easter Break. He says He has 'big plans' for our boy."

"What sort of big plans?" Narcissa scrambled down to the end of the bed to kneel beside her husband. She grabbed his arm, digging her nails in. "What plans does He have for Draco?"

"I don't know yet. He wants to find Potter. He who finds Potter will be handsomely rewarded."

"He couldn't possibly want our son to find Potter! What resources has Draco got that grown witches and wizards haven't?"

"I don't know, Narcissa. I don't know anything anymore." He leaned over and kissed her gently on the temple before rising. "I'm heading to bed."

"To bed? It's ten in the morning."

"I haven't slept in days." Lucius rubbed his stubbly chin. "I don't know that I can sleep now. Do you have any of that Ten Hour Sedative? Or Dreamless Sleep?"

"I have both, plus the Draught of Peace." She hurried over to the small dresser, atop which she kept the various vials of potion. "Take these two, the green one first, followed by a glass of water, then the Dreamless Sleep."

"Thank you." He leaned forward as if to kiss her again, this time on the cheek, but she pulled away. He sighed. "For how long will you need this space, Narcissa?"

"I don't know, Lucius."

Once he had gone, she remembered that there was a potion she should have taken upon returning home, too. The birth control potion. Thinking gratefully of the pioneering efforts of former Healer Dilys Derwent as she dug it out of her hiding place in a secret panel below her bra drawer, she downed one dosage. How long had it been since they'd been together? More than eight hours since yesterday evening, that was certain. She twirled her hair with one hand, banishing the empty vial to the attic with her wand. She hadn't been careful lately. But she would need to be. As much as she was becoming more certain by the day that she wanted what she had with Severus to be more than an affair, no good could come from another… accident.

She climbed back into bed, ignoring the hunger in the pit of her stomach, and reached under her pillow for the notebook.

To her delight, there was a new message. Short, but to the point.

 _I like you. -SS_

She hugged the notebook to her chest and smiled, content for the moment, so long as she didn't let herself think about Lucuis' pain, or Bella's excitement over performing the Cruciatus curse, or whatever terrible task the Dark Lord might have in store for her son next month.

Yes, so long as she pretended none of that existed, and thought only of the inner butterflies that came along with falling in love, she could be happy.

For the moment.


	40. March into April, 1998

**Chapter Forty – March into April, 1998**

"I failed the Dark Lord."

Narcissa glanced up slowly. She hadn't heard the door to her temporary bedroom open because she'd been thoroughly engrossed in an Agatha Christie mystery Severus had Owled her, which had arrived the night before.

"You're still alive," she said coldly, looking over her husband. She'd received another Owl the night before, too. From Draco, confirming that he would be coming home for Easter, expressing concern over her well-being, and begging her not to worry about whatever tasks the Dark Lord might have in store for him because, as a man, he could handle it.

This had rekindled her anger toward her husband, the man whose screw up made their son a Death Eater in the first place, because even though Draco was indeed a man, he was still her little boy, and she did not wish to see him hurt… or worse.

"I am supposed to inform your niece of her father's murder, but I cannot find her. It seems she has left your sister's home to reunite with the werewolf. Their baby is due soon."

"How do you know this?"

He sighed, gesturing toward the end of the bed. "May I sit?"

"It's your house," she answered, but she dog-eared her page and set the book down to give him her undivided attention. He settled on the end of the bed facing away from her as he had a week prior, the last time he'd inquired as to how long she'd need 'space.'

"I have been looking for her all week. Andromeda wouldn't tell me anything, no matter what I did to compel her."

Narcissa bit her lip, took a deep breath, cleared her mind (even though he was not a Legilimens, she was trying to do it as often as possible, to practice) and moved to sit beside him.

"How did you compel her, Lucius?"

He shrugged, unwilling to answer.

"How did you compel my sister to talk?" she pressed. "What did you do to her? What did you do to my sister, Lucius? Did you use a borrowed wand? Or did you just hit her with your walking stick? Did you choke her? Frighten her? Threaten her? Hold her down against a dresser as you did me? Well? What did you do?"

"I didn't do what you're probably thinking," he replied, looking disgusted. "I had Rabastan's wand. I used a few hexes, a couple of jinxes, and finally, the Cruciatus. She wouldn't talk."

"She's stronger than you'd think."

"She's stubborn and arrogant. It's too bad she and Bellatrix fell out. They have so much in common. So unlike you." He placed his hand gently on her knee. "You're not hard-headed or haughty. The only air of superiority with which you've carried yourself has been entirely deserved."

"You're touching me."

He withdrew his hand. "I can't live like this, Narcissa."

"You tortured my sister and she wouldn't talk. Did you tell her you killed her husband?"

"No."

"But you did, didn't you? You were the one who killed her husband."

Lucius stared straight ahead, both hands clasped together in his lap. "It's hard to say. Curses were flying in every direction. Two of them, a young man and a goblin, managed to escape. Two wizards and a goblin were killed and one of our side is still recovering in St. Mungos. It was kill or be killed. I don't know who fired which at whom."

"My poor sister," mused Narcissa, though seemingly void of empathy, which unnerved Lucius. "First you fucked her daughter then you killed her husband. I bet she never expected either of those things to happen three decades ago when you deflowered her baby sister. Someone should tell her. Which should we reveal first? Which do you think would hurt her more? Knowing you probably hit her husband with the Killing Curse, or knowing you 'hit' her only child in the sexual sense of the word?"

"That's crass, Narcissa."

Narcissa acted as though this was of little consequence to her. "Why didn't you tell her she's a widow?"

"The Dark Lord made it clear that I was to inform Nymphadora and only Nymphadora and that it must be in person. He gave me one week to do so. One week is up tomorrow. But I can't bloody find her. If He comes back, He might do me worse than Rowle and Dolohov."

"What ended up happening to them? I… witnessed you, and Bella, performing the Cruciatus on them."

"Once we'd finished, the Dark Lord took over. He… there's something He wants. Something He's seeking. He won't tell us what, save for Bellatrix. I believe she knows. He keeps disappearing. I'm going out again tonight to look for Nymphadora. I don't know why He wants me to inform her directly, except perhaps He thinks it will be more painful to hear the news from me than from her mother or a member of the Order. He is still bothered by my inability to bring her to our side. A Metamorph could be invaluable."

"I'm aware. How fun she must have been for you, with the ability to transform into any woman at will. Tell me, did you ever ask her to take on the appearance of her auntie Bella?"

"Damn it, Narcissa!" He slammed his hand down on the bed. " _Are_ you going through 'the change?' I'm not asking this to trick you into anything; I'm merely trying to discern why you've become such an insufferable bitch of late."

"Sod off."

"I understand that our marriage is under strain, Narcissa. I understand that you're angry with me. I understand that you don't trust me. I even understand your need for space. But I can't understand why we can't manage to have a fucking conversation without this barrage of hostility coming from your end!" He glanced down at the book on the bed beside her wand, then over to the nightstand, where she had placed a large mug of dark liquid. "What's that you're drinking?"

"Coffee."

"Don't lie to me." He grabbed her wand before she could and summoned the mug to him. She tried to knock it away, but he stood and held it away from her. He took a sip.

"You're drinking a mug of wine at nine in the morning? What's wrong with you, Narcissa?"

"I'm drinking a mug of wine because all of the wine glasses, champagne flutes, and crystal goblets seem to have mysteriously disappeared from Malfoy Manor!"

"No mystery about it! I had the house elves secure them out of access from you, as I also did with all of the liquor. How are you still getting it? You can't apparate off the grounds. Is Bellatrix supplying you?"

"It's not your business."

"What goes on in my home is my business."

"It's my home too!"

"Like hell it is."

"I'll drink what I want to!" She grabbed for the mug but before relinquishing it, he tapped the side with her wand and Vanished the contents. He let her take it back, and the wand too, then grabbed her by the shoulders and held her in place, facing him.

"I love you, Narcissa. You may not believe me, and, at the moment, you may not reciprocate, but you should know that I love you, and I hate watching you destroy yourself."

"I'm not destroying–"

"You're drinking wine from a coffee mug at nine in the morning, Narcissa." He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, then released her. "Do you best to get away from it, will you? If not for my sake, or for your own, do it for Draco. And for Nova. You've spent nearly as much time with her lately as her mother. That baby needs you. She needs you to be sober. If something happens to your sister, you'll be the one responsible for her and you can't be a decent parent if you're half-pissed all the time."

"Fuck you," said Narcissa, but a quiver in her voice told him that his words had impacted her. Later, after lunch, once she was past her initial upset over the conversation, she wrote to Severus to relay it to him.

To her chagrin, he agreed with Lucius.

 _I'm not labeling you an alcoholic, Narcissa. But you do seem to be relying on it more than you used to, and more than I'd think healthy. I know you haven't gotten blackout drunk in over a month, but I am inclined to concur with Lucius regarding the pre-breakfast wine, and I know you frequently drink yourself to sleep. Frankly, I'm worried about you. –SS_

 _What do you suggest I do, then? I've already cut back in terms of quantity! I typically drink a glass or two before bed, not an entire bottle. I'm doing considerably better in that regard! –NM_

 _What about a week without? Completely abstain, to be certain you can do it. And then, when (if) you start again, you can better moderate your intake. –SS_

 _A week? Draco will be home in a week. I'm looking forward to seeing him, but with the Dark Lord's threat of a task looming on the horizon I anticipate being rather helps when I'm stressed. Wine helps and sex helps and since I can't have daily sex with you, I have to depend upon the wine. –NM_

 _Six days. –SS_

 _How about three days? –NM_

 _Five days. –SS_

 _Two days. –NM_

 _That's not how a negotiation works. You can't go smaller when I'm going smaller. You need to increase your number, ensuring we meet somewhere in the middle. Try again. Five days. –SS_

She smirked. "You impossible man," she said as she scrawled her resignation.

 _Fine. I'll comply. Four days? –NM_

He smiled, ignoring the voice of Dilys Derwent behind his right shoulder, as she requested he not block her view of his page.

 _Very well. Start with four days. –SS_

 _Beginning tomorrow. –NM_

 _Beginning now. –SS_

 _I can't begin now. I've been drinking all morning. I'll start tomorrow. –NM_

 _Tomorrow then. Promise? –SS_

 _Don't make me promise. –NM_

 _Tomorrow and for four full consecutive days. Promise?You promise me this, and keep your promise, and I'll see to it that you're handsomely rewarded. –SS_

 _Fine. I promise. But the reward had better be good. –NM_

 _Excellent. It will be good. I'm offering an hour of cuddling in exchange for your success. –SS_

 _Make it three hours of snuggling and we've a deal. –NM_

 _You already promised. But I'll up it to two hours of alternating cuddling and snuggling, so long as you don't go thinking it'll become a regular thing, because, as you well know, I neither cuddle nor snuggle under typical circumstances. –SS_

 _I'll keep that in mind the next time you're holding me in your arms as I sleep. –NM_

 _You know, you write well for a woman who has been drinking all morning. If you ARE an alcoholic, you're a high functioning one. –SS_

 _In the interest of honesty, I'm using a self-correcting quill. –NM_

He laughed. "Figures."

"What is it?" asked Dilys. "What did she write? Something funny?"

"None of your business," Severus said. She pouted. He jotted his response.

 _I have faith in you, Narcissa. You don't need alcohol. You can do it. –SS_

 _I don't need it. I just like it. –NM_

 _I like you. –SS_

 _You keep saying that. –NM_

 _It's the truth. –SS_

 _When will we see each other again, then? I LIKE you too, but I'd rather LIKE you in person. I want to make LIKE to you for hours, from sundown to sun up, and then spend the waking hours telling each other all those little things we each LIKE about the other. While cuddling. Or snuggling. Or both. I LIKE both. –NM_

He laughed again, which made Dilys curse. "Damn it, Severus Snape! Why won't you tell me what she wrote? I live for so little."

"You don't 'live' at all, Dilys," he pointed out. "You're dead."

"Death is dull. Do you know how long it's been since I last engaged in an illicit tryst? I have no choice but to live vicariously through you. Don't deny me this small joy."

He rolled his eyes, dipped his quill in his inkwell, and wrote a response to Narcissa, ignoring Edessa, who was vehemently agreeing with Dilys.

 _Over Easter break I'm hoping, though you may need to come here. The Dark Lord does not want me away from Hogwarts anymore, not even to chaperone students during Hogsmeade visits. The only exception is when I have been summoned by Him. This extends to all times now, not merely during daytime hours. He will not say why, only that He believes Hogwarts is only safe if I am present. –SS_

 _I'll come to you, then. And then I'll come WITH you… –NM_

 _Wine gives you a dirty mind, my beautiful Narcissa. I shall miss that over these next four days. –SS_

 _I could keep drinking, if you'd prefer. –NM_

 _No, but thank you for the offer. Rather, I think we should work on ways to decrease your inhibitions without the assistance of libations. –SS_

 _I'll give it as much thought as possible between now and when I see you next, Love. –NM_

 _I look forward to it. –SS_

Four wine-free days later, despite their tense continued separation, Narcissa informed Severus of her success.

 _I did it. –NM_

 _I'm proud of you. –SS_

 _I plan to celebrate with a bottle of elf-made Pinot Noir. –NM_

 _Why not continue your dry spell and we can celebrate together when I see you next? –SS_

 _I don't know that I can. I'm battling two dry spells at the moment and while one can wait to be amended until I see you, I'm not certain the other can. –NM_

 _Tell me what you want, Narcissa. Tell me what I should do when I see you next. –SS_

A slow grin grew across Narcissa's face. She could picture him, eyes twinkling, fantasizing about her as he claimed he often did. She sprawled out on the bed on her stomach, chewing the end of her quill. Finally, she wrote:

 _You can start by slowly undressing me… –NM_

Three days later, she was still struggling through sobriety. She hadn't managed to remain alcohol-free once the deal was done (she didn't admit it to Severus, but those four days had been much more difficult than she would ever let on, plagued by various symptoms she assumed were caused by withdrawal, and all that got her through was a combination of knowing she'd promised him and knowing she could drink again on the fifth day) but she was trying to cut back, not drinking until dinner time (or, at the earliest, after lunch) and not getting drunk at all (tipsy, sure, but not wasted). It wasn't easy.

Though she spent most of late March in her bedroom or in the nursery with baby Nova, she and Lucius ate dinner together (quietly, awkwardly) every night and ate breakfast together (just as quietly, just as awkwardly) every morning, often accompanied by Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan. As of the end of the month, none but Bellatrix had seen nor heard from the Dark Lord in several days.

"He is traveling," Bella had explained to a concerned Narcissa, who worried constantly about what task He might assign her son once Draco returned home. "He has work to do."

Because of this traveling, the Dark Lord did not yet know that Lucius had failed to find and inform Nymphadora of her father's death, thus he had not been punished. Though they weren't intentionally spending quality time together (aside from meal times, which could hardly be called 'quality' considering they typically ate in stony silence, unless Bella was there to prompt conversation) Narcissa often ran into Lucius in the halls, in the kitchen, and in the parlor throughout the day, and at least once during each 24 hour period, he would be fortunate enough to catch her alone and use the opportunity to ask when she thought she'd be ready to return to their bedroom, to which she typically replied, "I don't know."

She was reasonably certain that her husband was not cheating on her, even though she'd expected their fight following the admission about the murder of Ted Tonks would thrust him right back into infidelity. Finally, he managed his task, as he informed her during breakfast on the last day of March.

"I found her. I told her. She's devastated. Surely the Order will have heard the news by now, too."

"Has she had her baby yet?" asked Narcissa. "Is Andromeda a grandmother?"

"Not yet," he answered. "Any day, though, I suspect."

Narcissa nodded. They returned to stony silence.

Her certainty that he was not cheating is why she was genuinely taken aback on the first of April, when the doorbell rang, Wormtail rushed to answer it, and standing on the front step was Juliet Rosier. He granted her entrance. Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Lucius were in the parlor, sitting in uncomfortable silence. Bella was burping the baby, Narcissa was finishing the Agatha Christie mystery, and Lucius was staring out the window, sulking, as his wife had told him again that morning he had no intention of returning to their bedroom any time soon.

"Hello," said Juliet, who glanced nervously from Lucius to the couch where the Black sisters were settled. "I came for…"

"I don't care what you came for," Bellatrix cut her off. She handed the infant to Narcissa (who immediately began rubbing and patting her back to coax a burp) and stood to square off against their cousin. "You are not welcome here. My brother-in-law made that clear to you when he broke it off. So get out."

"Bellatrix," said Lucius in a warning tone. He rose and moved to stand between the two women. "I told her to come by."

"Why?" asked Narcissa, eyes glued to the baby, trying to sound as unconcerned about this as possible. "Have you resumed your little fling?"

"I've decided to allow Juliet to remain in the flat for at least another month, as she's had difficulty finding a new place. She's here for the rent money."

"Bullshit," said Bella. "You're fucking her again."

"Not yet," said Lucius. "And whether we do resume is entirely dependent upon the actions and choices of your sister." He looked to Narcissa as if hoping this would be the moment she'd agree to return to their bed, to stop being so cold with him and express interest in mending their broken marriage, as if the threat of being cheated on would compel her to return to him, when in fact, it simply made her want to further withdraw. "Only Narcissa holds the power here."

Bellatrix scoffed. Juliet huffed. Narcissa acted as though she didn't hear.

"Her mere presence is an affront to my sister." Bellatrix slipped her wand from its sheath and pointed it in the younger woman's direction. "She should leave."

"Malfoy Manor is my home. I decide who stays and who leaves." Again, Lucius looked to Narcissa. As if indifferent, she continued to ignore him. She kissed the baby's tiny fingers, mentally noting her nails needed to be cut again.

"That's right," said Juliet. "His home, his decision. You may be left occasionally in charge of the Death Eaters in the Dark Lord's absence, Bellatrix Lestrange, but you're not in any way in charge here."

Bella's eyes flashed dangerously. Lucius didn't seem to notice – his gaze was still fixated on his wife, sitting on the couch, stroking the baby's soft hair as if no one else were in the room. He was staring at her the way he had on their wedding day, as if he wanted nothing more than to take her away and hold her and be held by her, but unlike on their wedding day, there was sadness evident in his blue eyes. She could feel his gaze boring into her but she cleared her mind and continued to act as though none of this bothered her.

"Right, Lucius?" asked Juliet. She touched his arm, jolting him. He hadn't been paying attention and had no idea what he was agreeing to, but nodded in response anyway. "Lucius?"

"I'll get you the money, Juliet. It's in the safe. Wait here. I'll be back in a moment."

Juliet's eyes widened. Clearly she hadn't been expecting him to leave her alone with the Black sisters (and wouldn't have been so cocky if she had). The corners of Bella's mouth turned up as soon as his back was turned. She waited until his footsteps had faded down the hall before stepping closer to Juliet, holding her wand under the girl's chin.

"I gave you multiple warnings. I told you to stay away from my sister's husband, you home-wrecking whore, but did you listen? No."

Narcissa cradled the baby in the crux of her arm and leaned back against the couch, wondering whether she should intervene, torn between the desire to see her husband's lover get her long-awaited comeuppance and feeling hypocritical because of her rapidly progressing relationship with Severus. Add to this a touch of apathy since she currently didn't care much one way or the other if her husband resumed his affair, as she presently had no intention of returning to his bed.

It occurred to Narcissa suddenly that the girl hadn't only slept with Lucius. She'd been with Severus too, in her quest to rise up in the ranks of the Dark Lord, and this realization tilted her toward glee over whatever her sister might do next. She therefore regarded the unfolding scene as she might a play or film, both thoroughly engrossed by and completely detached from the action.

"He doesn't want her," said Juliet, jerking her head toward Narcissa. "The only reason they're still married is because he's afraid of the scandal of a divorce. There's never been a divorce in the Malfoy family. But every day he grows more tired of her unwillingness to live like a proper wife so if he wants to leave her to marry me there's not a damn thing you can do about it, Bellatrix Lestrange!"

"Not a damn thing I can do about it?" Bellatrix cackled madly. "That sounds like a challenge, child. And I do love challenges."

"She doesn't even love him!" Juliet exclaimed, throwing up her hands in frustration. "He deserves better than a sexually repressed middle-aged alcoholic who refuses to share his bed."

"Well, now, that's not fair," Narcissa said coolly. "I've got another seven years before I'd call myself middle-aged."

"You're middle aged, you're sexually repressed, you're an alcoholic, and you know it," insisted Juliet, displaying false bravado that amused Bellatrix. It almost reminded her of herself as a teen, when she'd first met and gone to bed with the Dark Lord. It was a quality He'd liked about her and over time – with His instruction and support – she'd turned that facade into reality.

"Take that back," Bellatrix ordered. She touched the tip of her wand to Juliet's throat. "I don't take kindly to those who insult my baby sister."

"Your baby sister would have been cast out long ago if Lucius weren't afraid to anger you, and by extension, the Dark Lord! I love him. Clearly, she doesn't."

"But does he love you?" asked Narcissa nonchalantly. She lifted the baby to sniff her hair. "Has he told you he loves you?"

"He…" Pink spots dotted Juliet's cheeks. "He doesn't have to tell me. I know."

"How sweet." Bella ran the tip of her wand down Juliet's neck, coming to rest between her breasts. "I'll bet you love him with all your heart."

"I do," Juliet said defiantly, but Bella, being a proficient Legilimens, knew that even this bit of confidence was an act.

"Crucio," Bella whispered, her wand still pointed directly at her cousin's heart. Juliet staggered back, clutching her chest, hardly able to breathe.

"Crucio," Bella repeated off-handedly, but louder this time.

Juliet fell to her knees. Tears stung her eyes. She managed to speak through the pain.

"You… can… curse… me… all you… want… Bellatrix… but… it… won't… change… anything!"

Bella laughed.

"I'm just getting started, little girl. Crucio!"

Juliet curled into the fetal position, rocking on her side, in excruciating pain. It was during this that Lucius re-entered.

"No! Bellatrix!" He rushed toward them, wandless, ready to grab Bella to stop her, but she turned her wand on him.

"You'll stay back, Malfoy."

Rather than continue in her direction, he went to Juliet, helping her gingerly to her feet. She was trembling, wiping tears from her cheeks, hardly able to catch her breath.

"Damn it, Narcissa!" he said in a scolding tone. "You let her do that?"

"What?" Narcissa looked up from the baby. "Oh. Sorry Lucius, darling. I didn't realize you'd left me in charge of babysitting your girlfriend." She looked to her sister and added in a scolding tone, "Bella, play nice. Juliet is a guest in our home." Bella stuck her tongue out at Narcissa, who winked before turning her attention back to the baby.

"She doesn't… love you… Lucius," wheezed Juliet, pointing at Narcissa. "She'll never love you… as much as I could love you…"

"Juliet, as I have already informed you, letting you stay in the flat is not an indication of my feelings toward you. I simply did not wish to see you out in the street. Here." He handed her a velvet pouch of jingling galleons.

"No one wants to see the poor lamb out on the street," said Narcissa, as casually as if she were discussing the weather. She was still staring down at Nova's flawless face as if unconcerned. "Why not move her in here, Lucius? Everyone else seems to reside in Malfoy Manor. She can stay with you in the master bedroom. Then perhaps you'll stop bothering me every night. That is, assuming the little slag can satisfy your apparently insatiable needs."

Juliet bristled at being labeled a slag in front of her lover. She was finally feeling herself again, free from the affects of the Cruciatus. "Perhaps he should. He's had me everywhere else. Your bed would be a nice change of pace."

Narcissa chuckled at this, keeping her mind clear, putting on an air of indifference, but infuriated Bellatrix flicked her wand, making a whip fly out of it, which grabbed Juliet by the throat and slammed her to her knees.

"You look comfortable in that position," she said, before snapping it again, this time hitting Juliet in the abdomen, making her double over. She suddenly recalled the spell Severus had used on her just after her Azkaban escape, the one that had cut her so deeply and left a faint scar. The memory of it made her smile. What a lovely opportunity to try something new. "Sectumsem—"

"No!" Baby in her arms, Narcissa rose from the couch and shoved Bella's wand hand, so the curse hit the bookshelf behind Juliet, sending framed pictures and Malfoy genealogy texts flying. That was the spell Potter had used on Draco, the one that left his cheeks and forehead covered in angry slashes that broke her heart to look upon. It hurt her heart to remember it and as much as she disliked Juliet, she did not wish to see such pain inflicted upon her.

"What did you do that for?" Bellatrix poiuted. "I was just about to rearrange her pretty face."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Bella, but this is going too far. Lucius, I'm done. You have to stop this."

"Me? She's _your_ sister! I don't even have a wand!"

"Not that, this!" Narcissa gestured toward Juliet, who was still on the floor. She handed the baby back to Bellatrix, figuring this was the best way to keep her from firing Unforgivable Curses, and stepped between them. "She loves you, Lucius. This poor stupid girl loves you, just as Endora Selwyn loved you, and I'm afraid you're going to end up driving her to madness as you did Endora. If you care about her, if you love her, then for the love of all things magic, Lucius, tell her. Stop breaking it off with her then dragging her back. Throw me out, divorce me if that's what you wish, but you need to make a decision and you need to do it now. You keep her hanging on while I'm… _unavailable_ … because you're afraid to be alone. But every night you remind me that you love me and that you're sorry and that you're ready to be faithful to me – which I'm certain is directly contrary to whatever you're telling her – and it's not right, Lucius. It's not fair. You're hurting her as you've hurt me. What's more, darling, I think you're hurting yourself."

"What are you saying?" asked Lucius, stepping toward his wife.

"I'm saying it needs to stop. If you want her, tell her. If you want me out, tell me. If you love her, Lucius, then tell her you love her and treat her like you love her and I'll leave. I don't know where I'll go but I'll leave."

"Cissy?" whispered Bellatrix, clearly confused. "Are you mad, Love? You can't leave."

"Do you want to leave?" asked Lucius softly, looking more wounded by her words than Narcissa had ever seen him.

"I don't know what I want, Lucius. I wish I knew. But we cannot keep this up. I'm tired. Do you love her or don't you?"

He made eye contact with Juliet for several seconds, but she knew the moment he broke it what his answer would be.

"I love you, Narcissa. I don't know if you'll ever… if we can ever go back to the way we were… but I don't want you to leave." He patted the velvet bag of coins in Juliet's hand. "That's enough for two months rent. By the end of May, you should have found yourself a new place."

"But… but I…" Juliet's surprised eyes were full of tears, but these were not related to the Cruciatus curse. "I can offer you so much, Lucius. I'm young. I'm pretty. I can bare children. You want more children, don't you? Plus I'm… I'm smart… and I… I'm loyal to the Dark Lord… I'm a Death Eater… I… I don't understand."

"I'm sorry," said Lucius.

"I'll walk you out," said Narcissa, who was grappling with the knowledge she'd 'won,' that Lucius was still hers, despite her growing uncertainty that she'd ever again want him.

"I don't want your money," Juliet said, attempting to return the pouch.

"Take the money," said Narcissa, steering the girl toward the door to the hall. "Money is money. It means more to you than it does for us. Don't be an idiot." They walked wordlessly to the front door, where Juliet expected Narcissa to bid her a final farewell, but to her surprise, Narcissa continued to escord her all the way to the gate. "Go away," Narcissa snapped at an albino peacock that was always coming up to people seeking sunflower seeds lately, thanks to Wormtail's obxnoious habit of feeding her whenever he was permitted outside. "Juliet, we both know that my sister hates you, but for what it's worth, I don't. As I told you when you started seeing my husband, you're not the first he's had since we married and likely won't be the last."

"I get it," sniffed Juliet, who just wanted to leave and never come back, not after such humiliation and heartbreak.

"He may even seek you out again. He's weak in that way. And whether you decide to – whatever you decide to do – it's up to you. You called me a sexually repressed middle-aged alcoholic? I suppose one could argue that, but the fact is, I'm simply tired. It's been a long war already and, considering how long the last one went on, it's probably only just begun. The last war was long, eleven years long. My rotten childhood was long. Me years at Hogwarts were long. My marriage has been long. And I'm tired."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Narcissa sighed, steeling herself, and decided to impart upon Juliet a bit of wisdom. "If you want a meaningless fling with a contentedly married man who's eventually going to toss you aside the second a woman who's younger and prettier and more interesting in the moment comes along, that man may be my husband. But if you want a man who's going to love you, who's going to be deserving of _your_ love, for fuck's sake learn your lesson and stay away. If what you want is a marriage and children and all of that…"

"You're saying I should look elsewhere."

Narcissa nodded, patting her arm. "Yes, you should. You deserve to be loved as much as you love. As you said, you're an attractive, intelligent, capable girl – woman – and you should therefore have no trouble in finding someone more deserving of you."

Juliet faced Narcissa, absolutely perplexed, and almost touched. "This is the nicest you've ever been to me."

"Well," Narcissa shrugged one shoulder. "We're family."

"I knew you hated me from the moment we met," said Juliet. "When I saw you with Snape at the pub. I thought you two were an item, to be honest. I thought I'd hit on a good bit of gossip that I could use to my advantage. But he explained that he has a tradition of celebrating his birthdays there by having a drink with your husband and with him in Azkaban, you simply didn't want him to be alone and depressed. He said you're a good friend, you and Lucius."

"Is that right?" asked Narcissa, mentally kicking herself because it had never occurred to her to worry that Juliet might have suspected they were an item after seeing them there together.

"Do you think…?" Juliet reached up to twirl her hair, the way Narcissa did, the way Andromeda did, the way Mother hated. It almost made Narcissa smile, thinking of how alike relatives could be even when they hardly knew each other. "I dated Severus briefly, but only because I wanted to meet the Dark Lord. He's an interesting man, though. Do you think, if I contacted him…?"

"Contacted… Severus Snape?" Narcissa blanched. _'Clear your mind,'_ she mentally ordered herself just in case. _'Clear your mind.'_

"He's been alone a long time, hasn't he?"

Narcissa was momentarily at a loss for words. Juliet looked to pathetic, so earnest, so unlike the haughty girl who'd just stood up to Bellatrix Lestrange and threatened to steal Narcissa's husband right in front of her. Suddenly Narcissa felt compassion toward the pathetic little bitch… but not enough to risk her moving in on the man with whom she herself was completely enamored.

"I… no. No. Severus… no. He fell in love, long ago, and she died, and he hasn't allowed himself to think seriously about anyone since, no matter how many women Lucius and I set him up with over the years. It was during the First War. She died simply because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time – caught a Killing Curse meant for a Mudblood." This was, technically speaking, the truth. "Absolutely tragic. The poor man's never gotten over it and I doubt he ever will. No, I don't think he would be… I honestly think you'll only find further heartbreak there. But there are other men. Other Death Eaters. Other followers of the Dark Lord. Men who work for the Ministry… you'll…" Narcissa took her hand, hoping to seem comforting and genuine though she felt uncomfortable and slightly ill. "You'll find someone."

Juliet nodded, wiped away a stray tear with her sleeve, and thanked Narcissa before continuing to the apparition point and disapparating from the grounds.

"What in the fuck was that?" Bellatrix asked, startling her sister.

"Merlin's beard, Bella! Were you spying on us?"

"Yes! I was sitting right there on the marble bench, blocked from view by that dumbass peacock. What's come over you? I thought we hated Juliet! I messed her up for you, Cissy!" Now Bella was whining. "And it's like you don't even care! All that torture for nothing. Acting all sisterly toward the stupid slut-bunny."

"Is 'slut-bunny' a thing?" asked Narcissa, working even harder to clear her mind now that she knew she was in the presence of her sister. "Is it a thing other people say? Or did you make that up just now?"

"I made it up, because she's a slut, and also because she reminds me of a bunny, all twitchy and scared and fluffy as fuck."

"There was no reason to keep torturing her, Bella," said Narcissa simply, leading the way back to the Manor. "What Lucius was doing to her was much worse than anything we could do."

"I disagree! I could do much worse. So much worse. You've never seen how much worse I can be."

"Where's the baby?" Narcissa changed the subject, hoping to distract Bella. It worked, thankfully.

"I left her with Lucius. He's moping about the kitchen, looking for comfort food, the pathetic git. Have you baked anything lately?"

"Cherry tarts. Come on, I'll get you one."

"I wasn't one for sweets before I got pregnant and I thought I'd go back to being indifferent toward them after she was born, but I can't get enough, Cissy. Sugar and chocolate and sea salted caramel and puffy pastries…"

"You'll like these, Bella. Come along."

Like an obedient child, Bellatrix trailed after Narcissa to the kitchen.

Hours later, after they'd eaten the tarts and parted ways, Narcissa wrote all about this to Severus, who assured her even if Juliet did approach her he would turn the girl away.

 _I hardly had interest in her before and far less now. –SS_

Narcissa was scribbling her response when there was a knock at her door. She shoved the notebook under her pillow. "Enter."

It was Bellatrix, baby-free for the moment.

"Nova Black is napping." Bella had taken to calling the baby Nova Black, presumably because she liked the way the little girl's first name paired with her last, though it made Narcissa even more curious about the parentage of the infant.

"You should nap when she does," advised Narcissa. "You need to adjust to her schedule, not the other way around."

"I know, but I have a confession."

"What's that?" Narcissa sat up straighter, motioning for her sister to join her on the bed. Would this be the moment she learned the indentity of Nova's father?

"I did it."

"Did what?"

"I killed Endora Selwyn."

"You… what?" Narcissa's heart thudded into her stomach. "You couldn't have! You were in Azkaban!"

"Mother came to visit me. More than once. Everyone thinks she came only once, before they moved me into Azkaban, but it was twice. The second time we had our final falling out. The first time, which is when they gave her my wand, we were only able to speak for a few seconds. I used that opportunity to place her under the Imperius Curse. I hugged her, touched my wand, which was in her pocket, and whispered Imperio. Then, once she'd gone, I was able to manipulate her using a combination of the Imperius and Legilimency to go to Endora, place _her_ under the Imperius Curse, then make her hang herself."

"You can perform Legilimency remotely?" asked Narcissa, remembering what Severus had explained about Queenie Goldstein and the Dark Lord and how near-impossible such a thing was. He'd claimed to be a better Legilimens than her sister, but surely he didn't know about this.

"She's the only one I've ever managed it on. Being stuck in prison, I didn't even know it had worked until I was sentenced and overheard two Ministry guards discussing the Prophet's report. Then I felt awful, because I never expected the whole story to come out and tarnish your reputation. I was trying to help. I've always hated him but I know you loved him and I couldn't stand him disrespecting you like that. I couldn't stand that she was set to steal him away. I knew with me in Azkaban and Andromeda dead to us, you'd need Lucius. You couldn't raise Draco alone and Mother was no fucking help. She never should have been let around children. She had the sound judgment of a blast-ended skrewt. I figured if she got caught and sent to Azkaban, it would be no great loss, though I was careful to try to avoid that, to avoid a scandal for you, and I felt awful when I learned that damned Rita Skeeter printed all the sordid details."

Narcissa felt numb. All these years, she'd never doubted that Endora Selwyn committed suicide, not even when Euphemia Rowle shared her suspicions, and she was certain Lucius hadn't either. He said he'd broken it off with her and she was devastated.

"I know what you're thinking, Love," said Bella, and Narcissa immediately worked to close her mind. "Lucius didn't break it off with her. He told you that but it isn't true. All he'd done was tell her he couldn't leave you while Draco was so small, that they'd have to wait to be together. I assume he believes that's why she did it, that she couldn't wait. You told Juliet that he doesn't deserve her, but Cissy, as I've been saying since you were fourteen – he doesn't deserve _you_. If you want to repair your marriage with him knowing all this, that's your business, but… I felt you should know."

"Thank you," said Narcissa softly. "I… I'm glad to know."

Bellatrix tugged her sister's hair affectionately. "I'm going to go shower before my baby wakes. Perhaps we could slip out for dinner? I don't expect the Dark Lord back tonight."

"Perhaps," said Narcissa, distractedly. "Dinner would be nice."

"Great!" Bellatrix grinned and hopped up from the bed as if they'd been discussing something light and pleasant, like party planning. "I'll knock on your door at seven."

"Great," echoed Narcissa but without the same happy air.

As soon as Bellatrix exited, Narcissa used her wand to lock the doors, then summoned an unopened bottle of wine from its current hiding place. She popped the cork and took a sip, no glass necessary.

Long before seven, she had finished the bottle.

* * *

 **A/N:** This confrontation with Juliet did NOT go the way I initially mapped out, but I had fun writing it anyway. The poor lamb. ;) Also, I realized there was an error in the last chapter (one goblin was killed while Griphook escaped for the moment) so it's been edited. Thanks for reading! Review Responses below!

Annika - I'm glad you liked the Fantastic Beasts reference! I LOVED that movie and all it added to HP canon. Tina was my favorite but Queenie is a fascinating, wonderful character. I forgot about her trouble with Newt's accent! **:)**

 **Guest** \- Thanks for continuing to read and review!

 **Harry Hobbit** \- I'm glad you liked that description. I felt like we needed a reminder of how batshit crazy our Bella can be! lol. Sorry there was no badass fight between Bella and Lucius here. Maybe I'll work one in later... never say never!

 **malfoy-mcgonagall** \- Glad to have you as a new reader! I love finding other people who like Narcissa/Severus as a couple. It's a ship I stumbled on pretty much by accident when writing my Bellatrix/Voldemort series and now I'm all about it.

 **Elphaba8385** \- I'm glad to be bringing the new-mom reality to fanfics! lol. Babies are tough! **:)**

 **Avery** \- I've always felt badly for Draco too. I never felt like he was the mortal enemy Harry viewed him to be, just a misguided kid who eventually found his own way. I'm sappy like that. I haven't seen that show but I'll look it up.

 **Shira** \- Thanks! I hope this chapter satisfied your desire to see Bella make Juliet disappear, even though ultimately it's Narcissa who gets rid of her for good. Happy New Year to you, too!

 **Karli** \- Thank you! McGonagall is one of my favorites so I liked being able to work her into this fic.

 **Batman is Kawaii** \- I wish she could leave Lucius for good and be with Severus, but JKR had to go and kill him off... (sobs) The scene in which Lucius finds out about Narcissa and Severus is one of the first I wrote for this fic so I can't wait to share it and see what you think!

 **Everything Hurts** \- I haven't read Twilight, I must confess, but thanks! :)

 **Popular Cats** \- I wish she could end up with Snape too. Sigh.

Thanks again, all! And HI! to my new Followers. Hope you stick around for the last 10 chapters!

 **-AL**


	41. First Day of Easter Break, April, 1998

**A/N:** I wanted to post this yesterday in honor of what would have been Severus Snape's 56th birthday, but unfortunately real life (aka, work) got in the way, so here it is – a belated bit of lemony, bittersweet fluff in honor of our favorite ex-potions master and in memory of the amazing actor who portrayed him and passed away a year ago this Saturday. *Always* **–AL  
**

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-one – First Day of Easter Break, April, 1998**

Draco kept his promise to come home over Easter break, but insisted that he did not need his parents to meet him at Platform 9¾. He made it to Malfoy Manor before dinner time and was pleased (though he'd never admit it) to discover that the Dark Lord was not around, nor were his aunt Bellatrix, her husband, or his brother. Narcissa had been caring for the five-week-old since mid-morning, but she had time to make one of his favorite meals, shepherd's pie, and also bake a (successful!) cherry pie.

They ate dinner in the dining room at Lucius' command ("I'm sick of feeling chased out of the rooms of my own home, relegated to eating in the kitchen like a servant!") and, though it inwardly pained her, Narcissa even refrained from having a glass of wine with her meal, opting instead for gillywater with a twist of lemon, to give Draco the impression of sobriety.

Draco, thankfully, carried the conversation, filling his parents in on the last three months of school, primarily focusing on N.E.W.T. prep ("Transfiguration will be the toughest, I think."), Slytherin Quidditch stats ("Second place for now, behind Ravenclaw, one match left for us."), his plans post-Hogwarts ("Maybe a Ministry internship would open doors?"), and the recent antics of his blockhead cronies Crabbe and Goyle ("They're brainless gits, but at least they can hit a bludger.").

Narcissa answered several of her son's questions about the baby, filling both Draco and Lucius in on Nova's recent development ("She's sleeping for longer periods, she lifts her own head up, and this morning she smiled at me – the first genuine smile I've seen!") and admitted she had no idea where her sister kept disappearing to ("I'm starting to feel as though I'm the one who has a baby – this is the third day in a row she's been with me from breakfast to bedtime.").

Lucius, aside from asking Draco follow-up questions, had little to say, though toward the end of the meal he asked Narcissa whether she'd like to invite Severus to Easter dinner. They'd invited him every year since Narcissa's mother died (Druella hadn't liked him – he was of questionable breeding) but most years he declined, choosing instead to stay at Hogwarts or go to Spinner's End over Easter break.

"What?" asked Narcissa, resisting the urge to twirl her hair. She glanced at Draco.

"I asked whether you want to invite Severus this year. He'll probably say no, but since we seem to have made a habit of asking…"

"He hasn't accepted our invitation since before Draco started at Hogwarts," said Narcissa, turning her attention back to the lamb and potatoes on her plate. "But if you'd like to ask, feel free. I assume Bella will eat with us. Not sure about Rodolphus, considering."

"They're still living separately?" asked Draco, staring intently at his mother.

Narcissa, stared right back, working harder than ever to keep her mind clear and emotionless, certain her son was using Legilimency on her.

"Mother?"

"Yes," she answered finally. "It's been tense."

"What's been tense?" asked Bellatrix, entering the dining room. She was wearing a long gray traveling cloak, open to reveal Muggle attire underneath.

"You look different," said Draco, having never seen her dressed this way before. "Where have you been?"

"None of your business, nephew!" she said with a smile. Clearly something had gone her way that day, unlike the two that preceded it, which saw her coming home dejected and nervous. She hurried over to the table, kissed Draco hello, tugged Cissy's hair, then lifted her baby from the pram beside Narcissa. "How is my beautiful baby? Did you miss your mummy, Nova Black? Say 'Yes, Mummy! I missed you, Mummy!' Aww, I missed you too, Love!" Bellatrix placed a gentle kiss on the infant's forehead. "Isn't she the most beautiful baby you've ever seen, Draco? You barely met her when you stopped in last month. Now that you're home for two weeks you'll have to spend some time together. Cousin bonding and all that. Have you held her?"

Without waiting for an answer, she placed the baby in his arms. He backed away from the table to avoid accidentally dipping Nova in his shepherd's pie, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, but after a few seconds, he couldn't help smiling. She was so small. He began to relax. He even rocked her a bit.

"Look, Cissy! He's a natural!"

"No, he isn't," snapped Narcissa. "You're too young to be holding babies, Draco. Give her back to Auntie."

Draco rolled his eyes as, for the first time in weeks, Lucius let out a hearty laugh.

"Don't worry, Narcissa. Holding a baby won't make the boy want one. Quite the opposite, probably. Let him take care of her for a couple of hours while he's here. He'll go back to Hogwarts swearing off witches forever."

"I'm certain I could handle a couple of hours with an infant," Draco said haughtily, shooting a look of annoyance at his father. "How difficult can it be? Look, she's smiling at me! She… wait… what's that smell?" His pale face went green as the noxious scent of baby gas wafted up from the direction of her diaper.

Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Lucius all laughed at this – the baby was indeed smiling quite contentedly, as Draco gagged, holding Nova out toward his aunt.

"Bellatrix, take her! Mother? Someone take her! It's…" He blanched, choking back the urge to vomit when he realized her excrement had seeped out onto his forearm. "It's on my skin! Oh, eww, Mother, it looks like peanut butter, but the smell… how can anything that small smell that bad?"

Now Lucius was guffawing so hard he could barely get his next words out. "See, Naricssa? I told you. What did it take? Fifteen seconds? Babies are the best birth control."

"The formula gives her tummy trouble, that's all. Calm down, Draco," said Bella, rolling her eyes. Gingerly, she took the baby from him, used to wand to Vanish the mess that had seeped out the side of her diaper and oozed through her onesie, then did the same to the sickle-sized amount that managed to make its way to Draco's forearm. He hurried from the room anyway, to thoroughly wash his arm in the bathroom. "Come upstairs with me, little one. Mummy will give you a bath and feed you properly." She shot Narcissa a glare as if it was her fault formula upset the newborn's tummy. Narcissa's upper lip curled into an aggravated sneer. Not noticing, or perhaps not caring, Bellatrix settled the baby back in the pram and pushed her from the room. "We'll spend more time with Auntie and Uncle and Cousin Draco tomorrow, Lovey."

"You're welcome!" called Narcissa. She sighed. "She doesn't even _ask_ me to watch the baby anymore, she just hands her to me and say she has business for the Dark Lord, then she escapes faster than a Cornish pixie with a broken cage."

"She _does_ have business for the Dark Lord," said Lucius. "Besides, it isn't as if you're busy."

"That's not the point," muttered Narcissa. She didn't mind watching the baby – she liked it, actually – but a "please" and "thank you" would be appreciated.

Perhaps Bellatrix somehow got the message, because early the next morning she knocked on Narcissa's bedroom door and asked her to watch the baby for "just one more day."

"Bella! I don't mind helping with her, but we're running low on formula and if you keep handing her off to me your milk will dry up and…"

"I know, I know, Cissy! But please, just one more day! The Dark Lord _needs_ me. There's a meeting this morning; Death Eaters are already arriving, I had to skip breakfast and hurry back up here – you and NovaBlack will have to stay out of sight for awhile – then I'll be out for the entire day but back before dinner. I promise. Please, please, please?"

"Fine," agreed Narcissa, taking the sleeping infant.

"Thank you!" Bella started to exit but paused, then shut the door and lowered her voice. "Cissy, before I go, may I ask you a personal question?"

"You may."

"How long…" Bella paused, as if unsure whether she wanted to know the answer, before going on. "How long should a couple wait… after a baby is born… before they… have sex again?"

Narcissa was taken aback, though she supposed later she didn't know why she should be surprised. "How long should _a couple_ wait? Well, let's see. _I_ waited an entire year after Draco was born, but I believe Lucius only waited a matter of minutes, so if we split the difference, perhaps six months?"

"Cisss-ssy!" whined Bellatrix. "This is serious. How long?"

Narcissa sighed. The baby stirred and began to wail so Narcissa popped her tiny thumb in her mouth, then bounced her lightly, letting the movement soothe her back to sleep.

"I genuinely don't know, Bella. After Draco was born, I didn't want to. I didn't want to be touched at all, especially not like that. But you're not me. I suppose the question is, how do you feel? Do you feel like you can have sex? Do you even want to?"

"I don't want to," Bellatrix admitted, momentarily vulnerable and hating herself for it. "I don't want to but… but I can't say no forever."

"Who are you saying no to?" Narcissa couldn't imagine that Bellatrix was thinking of reconciling with Rodolphus, considering the toxic way they were treating each other as of late. Their relationship seemed to be in worse shape than that of Narcissa and Lucius.

"That's not important," said Bellatrix dismissively.

"It… it doesn't have anything to do with… with your work for the Dark Lord, does it?" Narcissa asked with concern. She hurried into the next room to put the sleeping baby in the crib. Bellatrix followed. "He isn't… making you do… something?"

"He doesn't _whore me out_ like your husband thinks he does," she said, looking hurt and angry. Narcissa was reminded of the night back in December when she and Severus were caught by Rodolphus, who asked whether she was "whoring (herself) out for the night" like her sister. She forced this moment from her mind, afraid Bellatrix would see it, get curious, and discover the preceding events between Narcissa and Severus.

"That's not what I meant," Narcissa said softly. "I just…"

Bellatrix cut her off.

"Forget I asked. Thank you for watching my baby." She leaned over the side of the crib, smiling down at her daughter. "NovaBlack is beautiful, isn't she? Strikingly beautiful. She's perfection. Without a doubt, she is the most beautiful baby ever born."

Narcissa chuckled. "All mothers think their babies are the most beautiful babies ever born. I was so in love with Draco, I thought no baby before or since, magical or Muggle, had ever been so precious."

Bellatrix snorted. "Draco? Please. He had red blotches all over his face and his head was weirdly shaped!"

"His head was not weirdly shaped!" Narcissa put her hands on her hips, indignant. "He got a little stuck when he was coming out and had to be pulled along by a mediwitch, that's all." The mediwitch had used a medieval looking metal tool to do so, the memory of which still made Narcissa shudder. "He was fine in a few days! And I think his red spots were cute!"

"Yeah, real cute," Bella replied sarcastically, still gazing down at her own creation. "Nothing says 'cute' like a bad case of spattergroit."

Narcissa's eyes flashed. She forced herself to keep a calm voice, to avoid waking the baby. "He did _not_ look like he had spattergroit!"

"Cissy, I'm only teasing." Bellatrix tugged her sister's hair. "Don't feel bad. Anyway, Draco was a lot cuter than Andromeda as a baby. I'll never forget when Father and Mother brought her home. I thought they'd accidentally left St. Mungos with a mandrake instead of a baby. She was the loudest, smelliest, ugliest little shit you've ever seen, and I'm not simply saying that because she grew up to be a bloodtraitor bitch."

Narcissa snickered. "What about me, Bella? Was I hideous too?"

"No," said Bella honestly, but as if this fact thoroughly annoyed her. "You were a little like Nova. Perfect skin, blue eyes, very symmetrical, but unlike my perfect daughter, your ears stuck out."

Without realizing she'd done it, one of Narcissa's hands immediately went to her ear, the one that she felt more self-conscious about, which is why she nearly always kept her hair at least half-down. "My eyes were blue? Draco's eyes were blue, too. Then they went gray, like mine. I wonder if that's typical of babies. Nova's are already getting darker. "

"Yes, I…" Bellatrix happened to glance at the clock on the mantle. "Fuckity-fuck! I forgot about the Dark Lord's meeting. I'm going to be late. Got to go! Thanks again, Cissy!"

She rushed out without closing the door, so Narcissa did so then used her wand to lock it. The baby seemed to sense that her mother had gone. She awoke again, wailing, but this time could not be comforted by her thumb or gentle rocking, thus Narcissa snapped her fingers, told Squeakers to prepare a bottle ("Make sure none of our guests see!") and hummed to Nova until the house elf returned. Unfortunately, the baby did not want the bottle. Not surprising – Bellatrix had probably just fed her before dropping her off. Nova continued to cry.

As Narcissa sat in the rocker wondering what to do next, she found herself apologizing. "Your mother says music soothes you, little one, but I don't know any songs save for the Hogwarts anthem."

"Waahhhhh!" was the only response from the infant, who had tears streaming down her perfect cheeks. She sobbed so hard she got the hiccups. Narcissa chewed her lip. She had never known baby Nova to cry this much. She was on the verge of flashbacks to Draco's babyhood and quite frankly wasn't sure she could handle it. She considered placing the baby in the crib and walking away – after the pillow incident, this is what Lucius encouraged her to do when Draco was colicky, put him down and walk away – but she made one last attempt to soothe the girl first.

"Fine, fine, I'll sing to you! Here it goes…" Picking a tune she vaguely recalled from a Weird Sisters song Draco liked, Narcissa began:

 _"_ _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts / Teach us something please / Whether we be old and bald / Or young with scabby knees / Our heads could do with filling / With some interesting stuff / For now they're bare and full of air / Dead flies and bits of fluff…"_

It seemed to be working. Though Nova kept right on hiccuping, she was now staring up at Narcissa with what appeared to be bemused interest. Or judgment. Possibly judgment. Narcissa wasn't much of a singer.

 _"_ _So teach us things worth knowing / Bring back what we forgot / Just do your best, we'll do the rest / And learn until our brains all rot."_

Nova's thumb found its way into her mouth. She was still staring intently at Narcissa.

"I know it's nice your eyes can focus now, Nova, but you're making me uncomfortable. Let's try a few minutes of tummy time. I ordered some new toys for you. One is a mirror. You'll like that, won't you? A little mirror so you can see yourself?"

Two hours later, baby Nova had been played with, bathed, fed, rocked to sleep, and was sucking her thumb in her crib when there was a knock at the door. Narcissa sighed. She had just undressed, intending to take a shower. She threw her robe on and poked her head out from the loo off the bedroom. Assuming it was Bellatrix, coming back earlier than expected to reclaim her baby, Narcissa waved her wand and the door opened. "Come in."

"Hello," said Severus, standing in the doorway. "Are you alone?"

"Oh! Severus!" Narcissa rushed to him, grabbing hold of the front of his robe and pulling him into the room. "Yes, I'm alone. But if anyone catches you here…"

"They've all gone." He closed the door and tapped it with his wand, locking it. "This is the first I've been permitted to leave Hogwarts in weeks. I was summoned to the Dark Lord's meeting. He handed out several assignments, including one to Lucius, Bellatrix, and Draco. They should be gone all day. I am to return to the school but I had to see you first."

"I'm glad you did. I've missed you!" Still clutching his robes, she pulled him down, meeting his lips with hers. He cupped her face and deepened the kiss, glad to finally be near her again after several weeks of daily messages and zero physical contact. When they parted he began to speak, intending to tell her of the mission the Dark Lord had just assigned to her son, but she interjected.

"How long do you have, darling?"

"Not long."

"I was about to take a shower." She gestured down at her bathrobe. "You could… join me."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Join you… in the shower?"

"If you wanted to."

"Do you want me to? Unless you plan to get that bathrobe positively drenched, I'll more than likely end up seeing you naked."

"I know," she said coyly, running her forefinger up and down his arm. "I… I think that's alright."

"Damn." Dropping all intentions of saying a quick hello, informing her of the Dark Lord's plans for Draco, maybe snogging a bit, and then rushing back to Hogwarts, he stepped closer. He wrapped his hand around one of the ties of the belt holding her robe closed, tugged it to draw her into him, then untied the belt and slipped his hands under the soft fabric, against her bare skin. She reached her hand up under his dark hair, scratching lightly at the skin of the back of his neck, and guided his lips down to hers. This kiss, like all of their early ones, grew quickly in intensity as their bodies longed for what they'd been denied for the last 17 days.

"Damn," she echoed breathlessly. His strong, slightly callused hands ran over her body as if he'd never touched her before, as if he needed to savor every moment, but at the same time, as if he couldn't wait for more. She worked at the buttons fastening his robe, divesting him of it, then turned her attention to the clothing he wore underneath, as they stumbled into the bathroom together. In seconds, both were completely undressed. Severus paused a moment, looking her up and down, then placed his hands gently on her hips and made eye contact.

"You can breathe, Narcissa."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"You're beautiful, Narcissa," he said, placing one hand firmly on her lower back. Her breasts pressed against his chest. She backed up slightly, but met the wall. "When we first started… this… I thought you were a beautiful woman, but I realize now I hardly knew you then, despite all the years that had passed since we were introduced."

"And now?"

"And now I realize that you're more beautiful than I knew. Now, when I tell you you're beautiful, I'm not solely speaking of the way you look." His hand made its way up from her hip to the center of her chest, over her heart. "Forgive me if this comes across clichéd, but you're more beautiful in here than you are on the surface, so if you're comfortable enough to be seen by me, that's fine, but if you're not, that's fine, too, because what I've seen already is more important."

She wrapped her arms around his upper body, digging her nails into his back just enough, keeping him close. "I don't care if it's clichéd; I love that you said it."

"I meant it."

"I love that you meant it."

The hand he was holding over her heart slid up to the base of her throat as he captured her lips in another kiss. Her lips parted to welcome his tongue as his free hand grasped the back of her thigh, lifting her leg to wrap it around him.

"Two weeks is too long," she lamented as his mouth moved to suck at the center of her throat just above the space between his thumb and forefinger.

"Two days is too long," he amended. "And what brief time we have is never enough." While one hand remained on her clavicle, the other moved down to grab her arse, thrusting her lower body against his. She could feel the evidence of his arousal and though she longed to touch him there, she dug her nails deeper into the backs of his shoulders instead. There would be marks.

"We'll never make it into the shower," she said, breathing erratically as he flicked his tongue over the now slightly swollen flesh of the center of her throat.

"Sorry." He backed slightly away. The seriousness of his expression was offset by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I didn't mean to interrupt your morning routine… if you'd like to me go…"

"Just get in the shower," she ordered, smiling. Unlike in her master bedroom, this bathroom had only a shower, no tub, but it came with the benefit of dual shower heads, one on either side.

"I've never seen this before," said Severus. He turned one on as she did the other.

"You'll like it. I like it. I miss my massive tub with the bubble jets and built-in drink holders, but this ensures the user is never cold on one side."

Once the water had reached an acceptable temperature, with steam quickly condensing on the glass of the shower door, Severus was ready to mess around some more, but Narcissa insisted she must wash her hair.

"It's always the first thing I do in the shower. Hand me that bottle…" She pointed. He complied. She squirted some of the contents into her hand. "I make it myself, this shampoo, because I love the smell."

"I love it too," he said, placing a quick peck on her lips. She reached up… and worked it into his hair. "Narcissa! What are you doing? I can't go around smelling like a shampoo only you make. Don't you think that will make people suspicious?"

"Who's going to be smelling you? Septima Vector? Don't worry, Love, she'll never notice. Once a woman turns seventy-five her sense of smell is dulled considerably, that's why elderly women wear so much perfume."

"I don't think that's true," he said but she ignored him, continuing to work it through his hair, at the same time initiating another passionate make-out session. He couldn't help letting out a low groan as her tongue found his. Between the sensation of her fingernails on his scalp and her feeling of her wet, naked body against his, he was suddenly too distracted to be bothered by the notion he'd now go around the entire day smelling like fruit.

When he stepped back, eyes closed, to rinse the last of the shampoo from his hair, she smiled, noticing how hard he was already.

"It's almost as though being naked with me has a profound effect on you," she said, brushing her fingers ever-so-slightly against his shaft.

"Almost," he said, fighting a groan. Two weeks was, indeed, a long time, and if she was going to tease him he might not last longer than two minutes, thus he took her hand in his, bringing it up to his waist, and stepped forward again, capturing her lips with his own. When they parted to catch their breaths, she put shampoo in her own hair and, as she had done for him, he helped work it through and rinse it out.

"This was one of your fantasies, remember?" she asked, reaching for her body wash. "Taking a shower with me."

"This is two of my fantasies," he corrected. "Seeing you naked and – actually, taking a shower with you wasn't quite my fantasy, fucking you in the shower was."

"Ah, I see. Well." She rubbed a sickle-sized dollop of body wash against his chest, massaged it up to his shoulders, and then ran her sudsy hands down to his waist. "Don't worry, we'll get there."

"I've never taken a shower with anyone else," he admitted. The truth was that he'd never even given the notion much thought until nearly a year ago at a Death Eater gathering, when Lucius was still in Azkaban, but after Severus had kicked Narcissa out of his office, angered by her comment on Harry's eyes. Members of the Dark Lord's inner circle were standing around awaiting the arrival of the Dark Lord when he overheard Bellatrix telling Hortensia Higgins, "There's nothing like the juxtaposition of getting dirty and clean at the same time. That's why I enjoy a good fuck in the shower," to which Hortensia had replied, "I'd rather forgo the clean part and do it outside. Like in the woods. Right in the dirt," prompting Bellatrix to counter, "No, I've done that. It's overrated. You get up with the wrong sort of scratches on your back and wet leaves in your hair. Trust me. The shower. All the fun of getting dirty with no messy cleanup." As repulsive as he found both Bellatrix and Hortensia, this possibility had not been lost on him, though when picturing it in his own shower later he imagined himself with Narcissa, not either Death Eater. "Have you?"

"Have I showered with anyone else?"

He nodded.

"Not really, save for Draco."

"What?" This idea clearly struck him as revolting. "You showered with Draco?"

"Well not recently! Don't look so scandalized, for fuck's sake. He was a toddler. He was sick. He kept throwing up, I kept bathing him, finally it seemed like it would just be easier to take him in the shower with me. The steam helped him breath and the water seemed to calm him… Merlin's beard, it doesn't matter, I don't want to talk about it right now! I'm trying to concentrate on, you know… being sexy or something."

He laughed. "Sexy or something. What's the 'or something'?"

"I don't know. I've never done this."

This prompted another chuckle. Deciding to take charge, he took the body wash from her, squeezing some into his hand, then setting it back in its place. He rubbed it on her upper body, creating suds, as she'd done to him. "Let's see if we can figure it out together, then."

Her head tipped back as she closed her eyes, letting the stream flow over her scalp and down her back while he massaged the body wash over her breasts. Once the soap had washed away, he took her left breast in his mouth and hand, squeezing and licking and sucking, making her wetter than the hot water cascading down from the shower head.

"I love… I love the way you… the way you do this," she said breathlessly as he moved his mouth to the other. "I love that you… you make me feel… oh, fuck, okay, yes…" His hands traveled down her back to her arse, which he grasped and thrust toward him. When his lips again met hers, she reached down and began to stroke his length, relishing in the knowledge that she made him this way, so painfully hard. He swore, afraid he couldn't take much more foreplay, but she wasn't done. She pressed his tip against her clit, using it to rub herself, which elicited from him a low growl. He grabbed her leg, bending her knee, and pushed himself against her so her back was against the cool tile of the shower wall.

"Let me fuck you," he said. "Let me fuck you Narcissa. Please. I need you. I need you now."

"I'm not ready," she said. Keeping her leg up, she moved his hand from the back of her knee to between her legs. "Touch me," she whispered.

He took hold of his cock, using it as she had, rubbing it against her clit, and kissed her roughly. The back of her head hit the shower wall.

"Pull my hair," she demanded, surprising both of them. Not one to waste an opportunity, he entangled his free hand in the back of her wet hair, twisting it around his fingers, and wrenched her head back. She gasped.

"Did you like that?" he asked in a guttural voice as she wrapped her hand over his, pressing his tip into her, just barely. He re-positioned his free hand on her thigh.

"Do it again," she ordered, tilting her chin down. "Harder. And kiss me."

He did it again. Harder. And even more roughly than the last time, he kissed her, letting his teeth scrape over her bottom lip when he pulled away.

"I need you," he said. "Don't make me beg. It's been over two weeks. I need you now."

"Take me," she said. "Now. Now is good."

He entered her then brought her other leg up so both were wrapped securely around his waist. He kept her up with his hands on her arse, her back pinned against the wall, his chest against hers. She threw her arms around his neck, holding on, and dug her nails into his shoulders as he began to pump into her.

"I love the way it feels when I'm with you," she said, gasping with each thrust. "I love… I love the way you fuck me."

"I love touching you," he said. "I love looking at you. I love the way you look."

"I love the sound of your voice when you say my name," she said. "Say my name."

"Narcissa…"

She moaned.

"My beautiful Narcissa…"

"Severus…"

"I love the smell of your hair and the taste of your lips," he said. "I love knowing that you're faithful to me."

"I love that I've ruined sex with other women for you."

"I love that you're willing to try new things with me." He kissed her.

"I love that you make me want to try new things."

"I love making love with you."

"I love… I love…" She stared at him, afraid to finish the thought. "I love…"

He made eye contact. He knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too, but she shouldn't say it. They couldn't say it.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, not moving for the moment. "I read minds, remember?"

"Well, I love what I have with you," she whispered.

"Yes," he said. He kissed her soundly and resumed thrusting, burying his face against her shoulder. He was close. "I love what we have."

He could feel a stinging sensation on his back. Her fingernails had cut him but the hot water was washing the bit of blood away. He moved one hand from her arse to her clit, rubbing her as he neared completion. When she orgasmed, she called his name and clenched her thighs, tightening the grip of her legs around his waist, and the feeling brought him over the edge.

"Yes," he groaned as he came. "Narcissa, yes. Yes."

Weak-kneed, he had to put her down, but he did not release her. He rested his forehead against hers, both still being pelted by the steady stream of hot water from the dual shower heads, and tried to breathe deeply until his heart rate slowed to normal. She placed her palm against the center of his chest.

"I can feel your heart beating," she said.

"This is better in reality than it was in my fantasy," he said. "I didn't envision you asking me to pull your hair."

She giggled, going pink-cheeked, as she was slightly embarrassed after the fact. "I don't know where that came from."

"I loved it."

"I love a lot of things about you," she said.

"What now?" he asked.

"Now? I suppose we finish showering."

They did, and afterwards, they ended up in bed, as they so often did, though this time she was in her robe and he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. She rested her head on his shoulder, her still-dampened soaking the pillow beneath them, but he tapped it with his wand and in seconds they were dry and warm.

"You know a great many useful spells," she said. She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his palm. "You should teach me."

"You teach me that one you know to Vanish clothing and make it reappear neatly folded, and I'll teach you how to be instantly warm and dry."

"It's a deal. Oh, I just remembered – Lucius wants to invite you here for Easter dinner."

Severus sighed. "I know. He asked me to arrive early this morning because he wanted to talk. About you. I wish he'd stop asking me for advice about you. Fortuitously I was able to change the subject to Draco. He extended the Easter invitation just before the Dark Lord entered, saving me from having to respond."

"And if he hadn't? What would you have said?"

"What could I have said?" He tightened his hold around her. "'Sorry, old friend, but I must decline. I believe the meal would be entirely too awkward an experience, considering how your sister-in-law hates me, your son doesn't trust me, and I've fallen stupidly in love with your wife.' I doubt that would've gone over swimmingly."

"What?" Narcissa propped herself up to look at him, her hand on the center of his chest. "What did you say?"

"I said it would be awkward."

"Not that part."

"I said Bellatrix hates me and Draco doesn't trust me."

"Not that part, either. I meant the part about… the part that started, 'And I've fallen stupidly…'"

Severus' gaze flicked from her eyes to his lips and back. "Oh, that." He reached a hand up to cup her face and guide her down…

"No!" She wouldn't let him distract her. "This is your 'tell,' remember? When you don't want to respond, you kiss me. Well, not this time, Love. I want you to say it again. I want to know if you meant it."

"I… I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," he said, looking almost pained by his admission. "But I believe you already knew that I feel for you more than…"

"Are you in love with me, Severus?"

He sighed, closed his eyes, and pulled her on top of him. She pressed her lips briefly to his neck as his hands traveled up and down her back over her robe. He didn't reply. She resumed staring down at him.

"Severus?"

"Damn it."

What could he say? Was he in love with her? It was a matter over which he'd done a considerable amount of thinking, especially over the last couple of weeks since they could only communicate via messages in that book, and he'd come to a series of conclusions, the first, of course, being that he loved Lily. That was fact, unarguable, unquestionable, unwavering. He had always loved and would forever love Lily – but this was different. The way he felt about Narcissa, it was different… but it was also indisputably something beyond a mix of attraction and affection. It was raw and passionate and magical in its own way. It was a way he'd never imagined he could feel, or would even want to feel. He had connected emotionally with so few people in his life, especially after the death of his grandmother and once his resentment of his parents grew to the point that he couldn't say he loved them, and when Lily was killed (when he'd gotten Lily killed) he decided he'd never again connect on an emotional level with anyone ever. For sixteen years he managed to live quite peacefully this way, keeping the world at arm's length – and then Narcissa had to come and fuck it up.

What's more, he knew falling in love with her was potentially dangerous, and just as he'd said, it was stupid.

But since there wasn't yet a potion to do the opposite of Amortentia, to make a person fall seemingly out of love with another as long as he or she continued to consume it, he supposed there wasn't much he could do about the way he felt.

"You're quiet," she said. "Do you regret having said…?"

"No," he cut her off. "I don't regret having said it."

"Then what's wrong?"

He opened his eyes to find she was still staring at him with a mix of concern and hope and vulnerability. "Narcissa, as I believe I've made clear in the past, it could be dangerous should anyone discover we're… involved."

"Is that what you're worried about? Really?" She stroked his cheek. "Are you worried that being with me could endanger one or both of us? Or are you afraid because you've fallen for me as you've never fallen for another woman before and you don't know what to do or how to feel about it?"

He furrowed his brow. Sometimes it was as if he'd taught her Legilimency rather than Occlumency. "I'm not afraid."

"Because it's okay, Severus. It's okay if you've fallen in love with me and it's okay if that scares you."

"I'm not sca–"

"Tell me the truth. Don't lie, darling, I'd never ask you to lie about something like that, but if… if you meant it… if you mean it… _if you love me_ …"

The way she said it, _if you love me_ , interrupted the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and simultaneously caused a fluttering in the pit of his gut. Unbeknownst to him, the idea this could be true had done the exact same to her.

"As I have already assured you," he said slowly, "I would not say it if I did not mean it."

"So say it again. Please."

He pushed back her hair, which was hanging down to his face, and half-smiled up at her, defeated. "Very well. I think – I _know_ – that I've fallen in love with you, Narcissa. Stupidly. I'm an absolute imbecile for letting it happen, but…" He flipped them so that she was on her back and he was leaning over her with one hand behind her back as the other moved to her thigh. "But, somehow, it happened. I'm in love with you."

"Oh, Severus…" She placed her hand gently on his cheek and guided him to her. Their kiss was a tender one, followed by another, and another. She re-positioned the leg he was holding so it was wrapped around his waist, forcing him closer, and he groaned, wanting her as he always did, but before they could progress any farther, he pulled away.

"Might this be mutual?" he asked. Her cheeks went pink as she realized she hadn't said it back.

"Severus, I'm sorry! I was simply so surprised, but yes, yes of course, of course, darling, I love you!"

He looked doubtful. "Are you sure? You're not saying that because I said it?"

"I'm sure!" She held his face in her hands. "Severus Snape, please believe me when I say that I am ridiculously, painfully, completely, and hopelessly in love with you!"

"You forgot stupidly," he teased. "Considering our current situation, falling in love is undeniably stupid."

"Yes, that too. I'm stupidly in love with you."

"So long as we keep it a secret, we can be stupid together." As their lips met, he untied the belt of her bathrobe and parted the fabric, giving him better access to her body. "Fuck, you _are_ beautiful."

"Everything I am is yours to do with what you wish. Own me."

"As you are well aware, I do not wish to _own_ you, Narcissa," he informed her. "That's archaic." But in the next breath he added, "Let me look at you."

"You looked at me in the shower," she reminded him.

He nodded. "Yes, and now I wish to look at you in the bed."

She did not object as he removed her robe, letting it drop to the floor off the foot of the bed. He positioned his body beside hers, turned her onto her side, facing him, and kissed her again.

"Are you comfortable with me? Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she whispered, not taking her eyes off his. He did not need his Legilimency skills to confirm she was telling the truth.

"Lie back," he requested. She did. He placed his hand on the side of her neck, under her hair, and pressed his lips gently to the mark he'd left on her neck less than an hour before (her mother used to call these Love Bites). He then moved his gaze, hands, and mouth down to her shoulder, flicking his tongue into the space between her breasts, then placed open-mouthed kissed over both of her nipples in turn, while running his fingertips against her midsection. He then kissed his way down the soft, smooth skin of her stomach above her belly button, which made goose bumps rise up over her exposed skin, making her suddenly aware of the cold in the room, juxtaposed with the heat rising inside her. He traveled further downward, to one hip, then the other, to her thighs, to her inner knee… and then the backs of her knees were on his shoulders, and he was pleasuring her, for the first time doing this without the cover of darkness or the comforting concealment of clothing. She gasped, gripping the pillow under her head, biting her lip to avoid crying out, afraid to wake the baby in the adjoining room. As he massaged her intimately with his lips and tongue, she felt herself losing control for a second time in under fifteen minutes, growing dizzy and heady, unable to steadily breathe. He slid a finger inside her and then another… and he was sucking on her most personal place…

Overcome with the rapidly building mix of gratification and want, one of her hands moved to her breast, which she squeezed and massaged, begging him to take her, to fuck her, to make love to her again. He sped up his movements as he realized she was almost there…

She couldn't help calling out his name multiple times as he brought her to a second orgasm. It crashed over her in waves, radiating pleasure from her brain to her breasts to between her legs to her toes.

He kissed her inner thigh, feeling her body relax, spent, under him.

"I love that," he said.

"I love you," she whispered, slowly coming down from her high.

"And I love you," he assured her, moving back up to lie beside her on his back with her cheek against his chest.

"Do you want to go again?" she asked hopefully, brushing her fingers lightly against his groin.

"Trust me, I do," he said. "But I'm almost forty, not twenty-five. I need more time."

She giggled. "You men and your inferior anatomy. In that case, you should come here…" She reclined, pulling him on top of her. "And keep me warm and let me whisper in your ear all that I love about you until you're ready again."

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said, but he didn't object as she began sucking on his neck below his ear, threatening to leave a mark as he had on her. "We should stop. I should go. We should be more careful. I shouldn't have come here this morning…"

"Severus Snape – wait, what is your middle name?"

"Tobias."

"Severus Tobias Snape, it sounds as though you're going to break it off with me, but I must be mishearing you because you absolutely can _not_ tell me you're in love with me and then break it off with me in the same day."

"Narcissa – what's your middle name?"

"Elladora."

"Narcissa Elladora Black Malfoy, you're absolutely right. To tell you I love you then break your heart in the same day would be terribly cruel and therefore wrong of me. On a completely unrelated matter, what are your plans for tomorrow? I have something I've been meaning to tell you."

She laughed and he did too. She smacked him playfully him on the shoulder then pushed him away.

"Get off me, you heartbreaking git. I'm cold. Let's get under this blanket."

"I should leave soon," he said. "I've already stayed too long. If we get caught…"

"No one is here, remember? Just us, two house elves, and the baby. We won't get caught."

Reassured for the moment, he stood, pulled back the bedclothes, and got back into bed. She scrambled under the covers beside him, now on the outside rather than by the wall, and faced away from him, toward the door to the nursery. He wrapped his arms around her, his chest against her back, holding her close. As usual when moving into this position, he placed a quick kiss to the back of her shoulder before relaxing. He'd never slept with a woman like this before her. He liked it.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about you, Narcissa," he confessed. "You mean more to me than I ever thought possible and you're right – it does frighten me. For multiple reasons, all of which I've dissected in my head countless times. Not least of which is the fear I might say or do something to get you killed, or that we might be discovered and –"

"We're only a few hours into the Easter holiday, Love, and I've already successfully used Occlumency to block out and lie to both my sister and my son. My husband can't read my mind and the Dark Lord doesn't care to try. So we're safe. You've taught me well. Try not to worry. You worry too much. I thought men didn't overthink things like that, as women do. Are you an anomaly?"

"Funny you should ask. In general, Narcissa, I believe there is a misconception about men that women rarely question, and you've hit on it here. The thought being, of course, that men are primitive and impulsive, that we don't think before we act, that we don't examine our lives in the way women do, that we go through life without dissecting our emotions or considering the consequences of our actions. There is a widely-held belief that men make decisions based on gut instinct while women have to first envision every possible outcome resulting from their decisions, as if women are multifaceted and complex while men lack depth…"

"With all due respect, my darling, I would argue that my husband is absolutely impulsive and driven by instinct and also that can't readily be described as emotionally complex. We've been married a long time and I'll admit he has a number of good qualities, but depth is not among them."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Fair enough. As far as Lucius goes, I am inclined to agree. Though I don't think gender is the reason, or at least not the primary one. Your son is more like you. He thinks, he considers, he worries, he internalizes, he anticipated the guilt he may feel later. He wasn't always like this, as far as I've been able to discern since his arrival at Hogwarts. He was more like his father before. Confident, arrogant, privileged."

"Was he a snob? Euphemia Rowle thinks I'm a bloody snob."

"You are a bloody snob, Narcissa."

"What? I am not."

"Perhaps not now, and please don't be insulted when I tell you this, but you've always come across a bit snobbish, aloof, proud. Now that I know you better, I realize under that distant and seemingly cold façade hides a woman who feels very deeply, who worries and cares about those she loves, and whose apparent conceitedness actually masks insecurity, but when you used to throw parties here, the way you carried yourself, I assumed you were just as much as snob as Lucius. It never stopped me from enjoying your company, either of your company, but it's something your son has inherited from both sides of his family. Trust me. I've met enough Blacks and Malfoys to say this with confidence. I assume it comes with the territory of being among the Sacred Twenty-Eight. We half-bloods aren't raised with such a strong sense of social status. That's unique to you purebloods."

"It's a good thing I love you because otherwise this assessment might bother me."

"It shouldn't."

She pouted for a few seconds before deciding he was probably right. "Fine. So you think my son used to be a snob but now he's not?"

"No, he's still a snob. But now he's a snob with depth."

Narcissa snorted. Typically she wouldn't stand for anyone saying anything negative about her beloved son, but she knew he was probably right about this, too.

Severus went on. "I believe it started after he had to start actually working to complete his task last year, and ultimately that depth, and his capacity to feel guilt, is why he couldn't bring himself to kill Dumbledore when he had the opportunity, whereas your haughty sister is impulsive and gut-driven. She would have done it without a second thought, with zero regard to the potential consequences – that's why she attacked the Longbottoms and got captured. She had no endgame, no plan, no idea what she was even looking for, so she tortured them quite unnecessarily until Aurors arrived."

"I think…"

But whatever it was Narcissa was thinking, Severus didn't find out, because from the adjoining room came a wail loud enough to wake the dead.

"I don't know much about babies," said Severus, "But I assume that sound means she's no longer asleep."

"She's only six weeks old but she'd got the lung capacity of a banshee twice her age," joked Narcissa, who extricated herself from the warmth of the bed and his embrace. She retrieved her robe, tying it shut as she headed into the nursery. When she returned, Severus was nearly dressed. "You're leaving?" she asked, hurt.

"Not necessarily, though I should soon."

"Then why'd you get dressed?"

He regarded her with a perplexed expression, as if the answer should be obvious, which made her feel like the students in his potions classes must have upon being called upon when they didn't know an answer. "I don't want the baby to see me naked, Narcissa."

This cracked her up. "To see you naked? You're nothing but a big fuzzy blur to her, darling, if that! She has no concept of naked, except she knows she hates to _be_ naked, because it means she'll be getting a bath and she hates baths. Come back to bed, darling. Talk to her. She likes sounds. Maybe she'll love your voice as much as I do."

"I… I don't know what to say to a baby." The only baby with whom he'd ever spent any time at all was Draco, which seemed forever ago, and even that was limited to greeting him and patting his head when his father would show him off before handing him over to the squib girl or a house elf or, on occasion, one of the boy's grandmothers. It suddenly occurred to Severus that he rarely saw Narcissa at all from the time Draco was born until he was about two. With the war and the aftermath consuming him, it wasn't something he'd paid much attention to, especially as he didn't find it odd that a wealthy couple like the Malfoys would hire help, but now, knowing what he did about Narcissa's post-baby depression, he wished he'd said something. Perhaps he could have done a bit of research and brewed for her a potion that would have helped.

"Sit down, Love."

He did.

"Here." She thrust the baby into his arms. Much like Draco, for the first few seconds he sat stiff and still, clearly uncomfortable, concerned, and confused, but also much like Draco, it took mere moments for him to begin to relax, staring curiously down at the little bundle he was holding.

"What if I drop her?"

"I promise, you won't," Narcissa assured him. "Talk to her. Babies like talking."

"Uh, hello. Hello tiny baby," he said stiltedly. The infant's cries ceased as she found herself distracted by the low, calming, unfamiliar timbre of his voice. Who was this strange man? "I was present when you were born. You've grown a bit since then. I'd venture to approximate that you've doubled in size." She stared up at his face, wide-eyed, wispy eyebrows drawn tightly together, as if studying him. "Do all babies have this uncanny ability to make me feel as though they're already capable Legilimens?" he asked Narcissa, weirded out. She shook her head.

"If they do, it's a trait that skipped over Draco."

"Her eyes as her mother's, even though they're… not," he said. "They're dark blue, aren't they? And she does not have your sister's eyelids, or that touch of crazy. But the resemblance is uncanny. It's unnerving. She's staring at me as if we know each other. As if she knows something about me perhaps even I don't know."

"Yes!" Narcissa sat beside him on the bed, excited to know this didn't exist entirely in her head. "I adore her but it drives me batty. As you said, her eyes are dark blue and not heavy-lidded, and yet…"

"They're unmistakably her mother's eyes." He felt a pang in his chest, remembering a certain baby he'd met before who had his mother's eyes. He remembered being there at the home on Godric's Hollow October 31st, 1981. He remembered stepping over the body of James Potter, unconcerned about his fate and yet filled with dread over what he'd find upstairs. He remembered entering the nursery, where the baby was wailing. He remembered seeing the dark-haired boy for the first time, standing in his crib, tears streaming freely down ruddy cheeks, a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. The boy was reaching toward him, frightened for the first time in his short life, and desperate for comfort – desperate for his mother.

Then Severus remembered looking down, finding Lily.

She was crumpled on the floor in front of the crib.

Dead.

Her eyes were open. He knelt and closed them, then cradled her, and, ignoring the baby, he cried. He cried for her just as much as her son was crying. They cried together, both lamenting what they'd lost, though the boy didn't understand that yet. He only knew that his mother wouldn't come for him in the moment. He couldn't conceptualize the fact that she'd never come for him again. Severus understood, though. He understood death better than most. He understood loss. He understood what it was like to live with a heart broken beyond repair.

Damn it.

He loved her.

He truly did love her.

He would always love her.

And he yet, he was in love with Narcissa.

How could this be? What was wrong with him? How could anyone love someone as much as Severus loved Lily and then go and fall in love with someone else at the same damn time?

"Do you want me to take her?" asked Narcissa, touching his arm, startling him. She looked concerned. "You seem far away."

"I was… thinking." He handed the infant back to her aunt.

"That's because you're a complex, multifaceted man. With depth. See? I listen to you."

He smiled. "I do love you," he said, as much to assure her as to reassure himself.

She kissed him and murmured against his cheek, "I know, Love. You're mine and I'm yours."

The baby squirmed, apparently wanting attention. Narcissa bounced her lightly. "She shouldn't need another bottle quite yet. It's not easy, getting formula for her. I was able to buy so little last time I went out, but I expected it to last awhile since Bella's breastfeeding, only with her gone all the time lately…"

"I can't think of her breastfeeding," he said. "If I hadn't been there when the baby was born I don't know that I'd ever be able to picture Bellatrix as a mother at all. Even having been there, I'm not sure I can picture it. Has she… does this baby have a surname?"

"Black," said Narcissa. "Bella calls her 'NovaBlack,' as if it's one word. She went through a dozen names before choosing Nova. Some I liked. Others I didn't. Nova wasn't my favorite but it's grown on me. I still have no idea who fathered her. She won't tell me."

"Was it difficult choosing Draco's name?"

"Ridiculously so. At the end of my pregnancy, my mother suddenly decided if he was a boy she wanted him to be named after my father, whereas his mother wanted him to be named after his father and grandfather, and I wanted him to be named for a star or constellation, in keeping with Black family tradition, but I also wanted it to have a nice sound, something strong, but not overly complicated or with too many letters. The only person who hated the name Draco more than my mother did was Lucius' mother. My grandmother, on my wedding day, cast her vote for Cygnus Lucius, which is what my mother wanted, but I was afraid he'd have a lisp and have to say Thignith Luthiuth every time he introduced himself. Being a child with a speech impediment is difficult enough, take my word for it. So I went with Draco Lucius."

"What else did your sister consider?" Gently he stroked the top of his index finger against her soft hair, wondering, not for the first time since he'd been there to help when she was born, what it might be like to father a baby. Not that he wanted to. He wasn't insane. He was merely… curious.

"There were so many. Let's see, she thought about…" Narcissa ticked off Nova's short-lived former names on her fingers. "Cassiopeia, Carina, Hydra, Lyra, Vulpecula, and Aquaria, plus maybe one or two I'm forgetting."

"Vulpecula?" He shuddered. "That's worse than Thignith Luthiuth." He looked to the baby. "You dodged a Killing Curse when you received the name Nova, Nova. Though a couple of those other options are acceptable. I recognize Hydra from Greek mythology. She was a serpent-like monster with an immortal head and poisonous blood, which reminds me of your sister and…" Severus trailed off. He'd nearly said, 'And the Dark Lord.' Considering the Unbreakable Vow Narcissa had presided over months ago, he knew such a slip might kill him. He took a breath and continued, more carefully. "And Lyra is pleasant. I like it. Lyrical and sweet."

"That's why Bella dismissed Lyra. She thought lyrical and sweet meant too simple and plain."

"For the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange? She's probably right. Nova is better."

"You could be a father, Severus," Narcissa said quietly, not looking at him, pondering whether she should tell him she was 'late,' but ultimately afraid to worry him when it was probably nothing. Late had become increasingly usual post-forty. Even so, to gauge his reaction, she added in a whisper, "I could give you a baby."

"If you have another child, you want to do it in the right order, don't you?" he asked. "Divorce, dating, engagement, marriage, and then baby?"

She nodded.

"Then let's table this discussion," he said, turning her face gently toward his. "I really should go. It's getting late."

"Table it until when?"

"Until the end of the war."

"Until the Dark Lord falls?"

"If that's how this war should end."

"Is that how you want it to end, Severus?"

He smiled, but in his eyes, the pain was palpable. He tucked her hair behind her ear and placed a brief, gentle kiss on her lips. "I kissed you so I won't have to answer that, but I believe you've discerned my thoughts on the matter. Now, I truly do need to return to Hogwarts. It's past lunch time and though I do not know exactly when to expect the Dark Lord or your family members to return, I do know that I absolutely must not be here when they do. Farewell, Nova Black." He slipped his pinkie into the infant's hand. Instinctively, she clutched her tiny fingers around it as he moved her fist up and down, to give the impression of shaking hands. "It was nice to have chatted with you. And you…" He removed his hand from Nova's grasp, placed his index and middle fingers under Narcissa's chin, and kissed her again, just as tenderly. "It is unlikely I will see you for Easter – even if I wanted to, the Dark Lord wants me at Hogwarts – but I'll figure out a way to see you soon."

"I love you," she said. "Severus Tobias Snape, I love you."

"It's mutual, Narcissa Elladora," he replied with affection and just a touch of disdain. "I'm in love with you. Stupidly."

He used his wand to detect whether there was anyone in the halls before exiting. The course was clear, thus he hurried out, closing the door behind him.

As she heard his steps echoing down the hall, she wished she could have asked him to take her with him. She wished there was a chance he would do it if she asked.

But she didn't ask.

She let him go.

If only she'd known what was to come.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello to my new followers! Excited to have surpassed 70! Thanks to all who are reading, favorite-ing, reviewing, and following! Review Responses for Chapter 40 below.

 **Ainat00** – Thank you! Unfortunately it's going to be getting even sadder over the next few chapters, so I hope you enjoyed this bit of fluff in the interim!

 **Guest** – I would, but I need to revamp a couple, fit in a couple of scenes I cut from earlier chapters but still need, and edit the ending! Soon, though, I promise!

 **Harry Hobbit** – I love that you felt sorry for Juliet! Ultimately, I did too, so I had to have Narcissa take pity on her.

 **Karli1252** – I'm glad the circumstances around Endorda's murder surprised you! I wasn't sure how that would end up working. Thanks!

 **Malfoy-McGonagall** – Thank you so much! I know there wasn't much that could be called subtle in this chapter, but I hope you enjoyed!

 **–** **AL**


	42. Skirmish at Malfoy Manor, April, 1998

**A/N:** Some dialogue later in this chapter comes from Chapter 23 (Malfoy Manor) in the Deathly Hallows. Sorry if it feels rehashed but I felt it was important to show those events through the eyes of Narcissa rather than from the perspective of Harry. I kept it mostly book canon, but added one element from the film that I particularly liked… I'm sure you'll figure out what it is. ;) Also, the murdered Muggle family of 5 mentioned here is referenced in Chapter 22 of The Deathly Hallows. **-AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-two – Skirmish at Malfoy Manor, Easter Break, 1998**

It had been several days since Narcissa and Bellatrix last spoke and in that time, Narcissa missed the baby something fierce, while Bellatrix, unable to get a break from the infant, had went back to looking like she was in desperate need of a shower and a nap. The wise thing for the sisters to do would be to apologize to each other, but as both of them had inherited their mother's stubbornness and their father's arrogance, neither would be the first to do so.

Easter Sunday passed without incident. Severus did not intend to join them for dinner, nor did anybody else, so the Malfoys went to Dovelings rather than eating at home. Of course, the Dovelings inquired about Bella and asked Narcissa to pass along their hellos, which Lucius swore they would do, then they hurried away as the handsome waiter brought their food.

"Why don't you talk to your sister?" asked Lucius, cutting into his lamb chop. "She looks as miserable as you do."

"We have nothing to talk about," said Narcissa coldly. "And I am not miserable."

"You've spent the last several days moping around the Manor."

"I'm not moping."

"You've hardly eaten all week."

"I'm not hungry."

Lucius dropped his voice in case they should be overheard. "And I know you've asked Squeakers to check up on Nova."

"I couldn't care less about…" Narcissa's voice cracked. She couldn't finish the sentence. She had grown too close to that baby and being unable to see her even though she was right down the hall caused Narcissa considerable pain. "Let's talk about something else. Draco, how are things with the Greengrass girl? Still seeing her?"

"We're fine," he said casually, spearing a hunk of lamb with his fork. "Astoria's busy lately, studying for O.W.L.s, but since I'm preparing for N.E.W.T.s sometimes we study together. Pansy isn't bothering us as much anymore. I think she's gotten the message. Though she tried asking out Goyle to get me jealous. It didn't work and she was stuck hanging all over him for an entire week before he broke it off because he felt used."

"That's probably the smartest thing Goyle's ever done," said Narcissa, admittedly impressed.

Lucius laughed. "Poor Goyle. Just like his father."

Upon returning to Malfoy Manor, the Malfoys found Bellatrix alone in the kitchen, picking her way through a sad looking salad.

"Hello, Lucius," she said glumly. "Happy Easter, Draco." She looked pointedly at Narcissa, then returned her gaze to her bowl without issuing a greeting. She stabbed a cherry tomato with more force than necessary, making red juices squirt out. "Hope you had a nice afternoon at the restaurant."

"You should have come," said Draco, wishing he could mend this feud between his mother and aunt. The Manor was already filled to the brim with tension thanks to the regular presence of the Dark Lord and the constant flow of Death Eaters. It didn't need to be made worse by whatever stupid row the two sisters had gotten themselves into.

"I didn't think I'd be welcome," Bellatrix replied.

"Oh, look at that," said Narcissa in a sarcastic tone. "Something you'd have been right about! What a novelty."

"Did you hear something?" asked Bellatrix. She rose, cupping one of her ears. "It almost sounded like my half-sister Narcissa, but alas, it couldn't be, since her voice no longer works in my presence. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to return to my room to tend to my baby who is being raised by me and only me because I am her mother and a decent mother doesn't need anyone else to help her raise her child."

Narcissa's wand hand twitched. Draco sighed. Lucius shook his head.

"Bloody impossible women," he muttered under his breath, heading out of the kitchen. "Come along, Draco!"

Bellatrix made to exit behind them, but Narcissa stood in the doorway, blocking her path.

"I am _not_ your half-sister," she snapped, glaring into Bella's dark eyes, careful to keep her mind closed to intrusion, just in case.

"Half-sister, half-blood, half-witted… Who knows what you are, really? Father certainly didn't. I mean, _my_ father didn't. Not sure about yours. Whoever he was." Bellatrix tried to push past but Narcissa wouldn't step aside.

"I think you should know, I hate you," snapped Narcissa.

"I hate you more," replied Bellatrix.

"Not possible. I hate you more than anyone has ever hated anyone else in the entire history of the world."

"Funny," said Bellatrix. "I must be one for making history, then, because I hate you twice that."

"You sound like children!" Lucius called from down the hall. "Grow up!"

"Sod off!" Bellatrix and Narcissa called back in unison.

"Let me by," said Bellatrix. "I need to take a shower while my baby's still asleep."

"You _should_ take a shower," said Narcissa, stepping aside. "Your hair is dirty and you look like hell."

Bellatrix leaned in close and lowered her voice. "Speaking of _dirty,_ who do you think you're fooling, using makeup to cover that love bite on your neck? How did it get there, Narcissa? Certainly not a gift from your estranged husband?"

"Speaking of _estranged husbands_ ," said Narcissa, voice just as low, but she couldn't help letting her hand go to her throat to cover the mark that Severus made. "Where's yours? He's around less and less since you bore that bastard baby six weeks ago."

"My baby…" Bellatrix straightened up and stepped away. "My baby is no concern of yours. She's already forgotten you."

"Until the next time the Dark Lord sends you off _'on business,'_ " (Narcissa made air quotes) "And you need to leave her with me for an entire day. It must be exhausting, the work you do for Him. So much time spent in bed, so little of it spent sleeping."

"Fuck you and your false superiority," said Bellatrix. "I'm not a whore and you know it."

"Do I?" asked Narcissa. "I was under the impression we hardly know each other at all. As you said, we can't even be sure we're fully sisters, can we?"

Bellatrix flipped off Narcissa then stalked off down the hall. Narcissa resisted the urge to hit her in the back with a jelly-legs jinx, as Andromeda certainly would have when they were younger, partly because doing so would be immature and partly because, in all honesty, she missed Bella and Nova something fierce and just wanted to make up already.

An hour later, Bellatrix sat in her bedroom, breastfeeding Nova, and listing for her all of the reasons they shouldn't care if they never speak to Auntie Cissy again, none of which she truly meant, while Narcissa was sitting in Draco's desk chair in his room, listing for him all the reasons his Auntie Bella should suck it up and say sorry first. Draco seemed to care at least a little more about this conversation than Nova did, but after venting, neither sister seemed to feel much better.

The fight had started the night Bellatrix, Lucius, and Draco returned from their task as assigned by the Dark Lord. Nova was asleep in her crib and Narcissa was on cloud nine, replaying Severus' "I'm in love with you (stupidly)" over and over again in her mind. Upon arrival, Draco went straight to his bedroom and his father went straight to the master bedroom, but Bellatrix went straight to Narcissa to retrieve her baby.

"You missed dinner," Narcissa said, though she didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as her sister took it.

"Yes, well, excuse me, but it took a bit longer than anticipated to get the job done on account of we had your son weighing us down. Where's my daughter?"

"She's asleep. What do you mean you had my son weighing you down?"

Bellatrix tossed her head, which made her wild hair wave like that of a stallion's mane. "It's no matter to you, Cissy. But for the record, by the time my Nova is old enough for her first wand, she'll already be of far more use to the Dark Lord than your son is now. He could barely complete our task, his father and I had to talk him through it, it was embarrassing. If he can't handle something so small as eradicating an inconsequential Muggle family, how will he fare when he's up against those who can fight back, former peers or former professors, Order members or rogue Aurors. You know, people who matter?"

"What do you mean 'eradicating an inconsequential Muggle family,' Bella?" Narcissa placed a hand on her lower belly, suddenly fighting the urge to vomit, as she'd already done twice since waking up that morning. What had they done to her son? What had they made her son do?

"I know it's a big word, Cissy, but try to keep up. Eradicate means to destroy completely or put an end to, to elimin–"

"I know what the word means, Bellatrix! You're telling me the Dark Lord assigned my son the task of eliminating an entire Muggle family?"

"The Dark Lord has concerns about Draco. Sure, it worked out with Snape killing Dumbledore for him, but what if he hadn't, eh? Next time, Snape or I or Lucius might not be there to do the job for him and he won't be able to do it himself. This is because you've coddled him, dear sister. After all these years Lucius and I are finally in agreement about something and that's it. He says you used to let the boy sleep with you when he was in primary school and had nightmares? That's unnatural."

"You used to let _me_ sleep with _you_ when _I_ was little and had nightmares!" Narcissa exclaimed, exasperated. "Hell, I let you sleep with me when you were lonely last year and you're in your fucking forties! Is that unnatural?"

"We're sisters, Cissy, it's not the same. Boys shouldn't be cuddling up to their mummies once they're out of nappies. It turns them soft. Like Draco. As I said, Lucius and I fully agree."

"If being unwilling to murder an innocent family means a man is soft, then I'm proud to have coddled him! You're a mother now, Bella! Think about it! Do you really want Nova to go about killing people?"

"I realize it won't happen overnight," said Bella dismissively, as if they were discussing turning her daughter into a ballet dancer or Quidditch keeper rather than a murderous Death Eater. "It'll take cultivation, of course. We'll start when she's three or four, I think. She can watch me. We won't hunt Muggles together, not until she's older, but I can demonstrate the Unfogivables on mice so she understands what power she can wield someday. Once she's got her own wand, I'll let her experiment on rabbits, foxes, badgers… When I was seventeen, I had a cat, do you remember my cat?"

"Mr. Sticky-Whiskers?" asked Narcissa. Of course she remembered him. She and her sisters had begged Mother for a cat for the better past of a decade and Mother always said no. Then, less than two months after Stepfather was murdered and Bellatrix was removed as Head Girl, she decided she no longer needed Mother's permission for anything and came back to Hogwarts from a Hogsmeade trip (late, earning detention) with a fat, fluffy, grouchy gray kitten who had double-paws and a smooshed face. He was small and sickly when she first got him, so she needed to feed him with an eye-dropper and wake up with him every couple of hours for the first week or two. Once he was strong and healthy, he was a lovely cat, though he hissed at anyone who wasn't Bellatrix. She adored him. He'd curl up in her lap while she read in the Common Room, he'd snuggle up to her chin when she slept, and he'd even sit on her shoulder like a parrot while she'd walk around Hogwarts grounds. After she finished school and moved out of Mother's house, he was one of the few possessions she took to her small newly rented flat. Unfortunately, she only had him for about a year.

"The poor thing slipped out into the cold one snowy night in February and you never saw him again," Narcissa reminisced. "It was sad."

Bellatrix sighed, bummed by the memory of it. "Yeah, no, actually. I killed him."

Narcissa's mouth dropped open. "You what?"

"I didn't tell you because you were young and I figured you'd be upset, but the Dark Lord gave me that cat as a gift, the first gift He'd ever given me, and then, exactly twelve months later, He surprised me at my flat one night and told me I needed to kill my kitty. I didn't understand why at the time, but I got it later. He didn't want me to be pathetic and emotional, you know, like Draco. He told me he would spare my life or that of the cat and of course I chose me, even though it hurt because I truly loved Mr. Sticky-Whiskers. Remember his smooshy face, those mitten paws, and the way he followed me everywhere? Poor, sweet kitty. I cried after I did it. But the Dark Lord knew it was necessary. He wanted me to be strong. The next time I killed something, I didn't cry."

"You're an idiot," said Narcissa, looking over her sister as if seeing her for the first time. "He didn't make you kill your cat to make you strong! He made you kill your cat to prove that He had complete control over you. He gave you the cat and let you love it and then He made you kill it to prove that you were devoted to Him!"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Which I was. Which I am! What are you saying?"

"What am I saying? Listen carefully, Bella! He gave the cat to you, then He took it away! He made you love it, then He made you kill it! How can you think his motives were anything beyond…"

Bella, now understanding, cut her off. "He wanted me to prove that I'm strong! To remind me not to let my emotions control me! Those who are controlled by their emotions–"

"He wanted you to show your dependence! To prove that you're powerless! To remind you that you're under His control!"

Bellatrix narrowed her heavy-lidded eyes, glaring at her younger sister. "That's not true! I'm devoted, not dependent! You take that back!"

"I will not take it back because it _is_ the truth. You're just too blind to see it!"

"You're trying to hurt me because you're sore over what I said about Draco. Well, I'm sorry you're oversensitive, but the fact is, you've coddled him and made him weak and I won't do the same with my daughter. She is my greatest gift and I'll not waste her talents."

"You consider her a gift, do you? Then I suppose it's a good damn thing the Dark Lord didn't give her to you because I'd hate to see Him make you kill her a year from now to prove a point about how strong and devoted you are!"

The anger in Bella's eyes melted away, replaced by fear. This had never occurred to her, but what if Narcissa was onto something? What if, like with Mr. Sticky-Whiskers, the Dark Lord gifted a baby to Bella simply so He could dictate what should be done with her later? What if He wanted her to meet the same tragic end? A sick feeling rose up from the pit of her gut, burning like indigestion, but she quickly worked to suppress it, telling herself no. No. He would never do that. Not to Bellatrix, His most loyal and faithful and devoted follower. And certainly not to Nova, His own flesh and blood, His only heir. Bella's expression hardened. "You're being ridiculous, Cissy. Don't you see? I'm trying to help you. Your family is not in good standing. The Dark Lord remains unhappy with both Lucius and Draco. This mission was a test, one that your son failed. Your husband understands how important it is to get you back in the Dark Lord's good graces, why can't you?"

"I don't want my son killing Muggles!"

"It's your lucky day then, Love, because he didn't! He couldn't! He barely managed to tease them with a couple of stinging hexes, Levicorpus, and stunning spells, but I enervated them because what fun is it to torture them when they're stunned?"

"How many were there?" asked Narcissa. She sank onto the end of her bed, her hand returned to her abdomen. Bella smiled, glad to have moved the conversation away from Mr. Sticky-Whiskers and the Dark Lord's plans for Nova.

"Perfectly sized little Muggle family. Two parents, three children. I took the father. I like having power over the men. I like it when they look at me the way I used to look at Stepfather. Like I've got all the control and they know it but they're going to think up clever ways to fight back anyway even though it won't matter. Lucius took the mother…"

"Took her how?" asked Narcissa.

"Nothing sexual, if that's what you're asking. He's gone soft too, I think, though that was never really his thing. If Rodolphus had been there…"

"Stop telling me," said Narcissa, closing her eyes. She placed a hand on the foot-board of the bed to steady herself. Though she hadn't been drinking, she felt like the room was spinning. "I don't want to know."

"They had a boy, he looked about Draco's age, and two girls, maybe ten and twelve."

"Stop it, Bella, please, I mean it."

"I ordered Draco to Full-Body Bind the boy then perform the Cruciatus on the girls. He could use the practice. But he gave it one halfhearted attempt then refused to try again."

"You need to stop talking," said Narcissa. "I can't. I can't hear this."

"What's the issue, Cissy? They were just Muggles. We finished them off with the Killing Curse. I wanted Draco to do at least one, but he said no. I even used the Imperius on him, to compel him, but he tried to fight it off, which would've been impressive if it wasn't so frustrating. Oh, don't look at me like that, Cissy!" Bellatrix sneered at her younger sister. "I'm not a monster. I understand it's difficult the first time! I wouldn't have been half as confident _my_ first time had the Dark Lord not been there to encourage me! But despite my reassurance and support, Draco wouldn't kill them. Like I said, I even tried putting him under the Imperius to force him just so he could get past these first time jitters, but he was fighting it and then Lucius stopped me. He said the boy will do it when he's ready. Whatever. Fine. He's your son, not mine. If he were mine, he wouldn't need to think about it. Just two little words and a flick of the wand…" Bellatrix took a deep breath as her eyes lit up with excitement. "The way it feels, Cissy, the way it feels the first time, it's incredible. You feel like you can do anything and no one in the world can stop you! I only wish my first had been Stepfather. I wish I'd come upon him in that alley with Andromeda. I wish I'd had the guts to off him… Nova will have the guts. I'll make sure of it. I'll raise her to be the best damn Death Eater the Dark Lord has ever seen. I'll make Him proud of her. You have to teach them when they're young, Cissy. But it's not too late for Draco. He's the same age I was when I met the Dark Lord and he's already got the Dark Mark, so he's ahead in that regard. I wonder how long it'll be before Nova gets the Dark Mark. I hope He'll do it before she goes to Hogwarts. She'll deserve it. I'll make certain she deserves it."

"Bellatrix, please." Narcissa rubbed her temples. She felt dizzy. So dizzy. "I can't think of my baby as a killer."

"You don't have to," said Bella, rolling her eyes. "He didn't kill anybody."

But Narcissa didn't mean Draco this time. She meant Nova. Stinging tears escaped her eyes, which were still squeezed shut, leaving streaks down her face. She sniffled.

"Are you crying?" Bellatrix grabbed Narcissa's face roughly between her hands, on which she wore fingerless gloves, and examined her. "These are tears. You're crying! Why are you crying? Because he couldn't do it? Don't worry, Cissy, he'll get it next time! Lucius and I will help him. I'll get you back into favor with the Dark Lord, I promise." Bellatrix kissed Narcissa on the forehead. "There's nearly a week left of Easter break. We'll think of something. He won't have to punish Draco if we manage to find a way for the boy to impress Him before He returns!"

"No!" Narcissa's eyelids snapped open. She pushed her sister away. "I don't want him to impress the Dark Lord, not if it means killing someone! How are you not horrified when you picture that future for your daughter, Bellatrix? How can you think of her that way and not want to be sick? They say it splits your soul to commit murder!"

"Nothing's wrong with my soul," said Bellatrix with a casual shrug.

"I'm not sure you have a soul," replied Narcissa. "No wonder the Dementors' presence didn't bother you as much as it did Lucius. You're soulless."

Bellatrix sighed. "This is the problem with you, Cissy. You're weak, weaker even than Draco. It's not something you can help. You were a weak-willed child. You cried all the time as a baby. Drove Mother and Father batty. I was only four but I remember. You need holding and cuddling and loving and attention and if you didn't get it, you cried. Andromeda was ugly but at least she was quiet."

"I'm weak because I cry?" Narcissa forced herself up from the bed even though she still felt sick to her stomach and fuzzy-headed. "But you, you're strong because you'd kill your own beloved cat to appease the Dark Lord? I think you and I have a different definition of strength."

Bellatrix tsked, annoyed. "Don't be daft, Cissy. You aren't weak because you cry, you cry because you're weak!"

"I'm weak? I'm the one who's weak? Please, Bellatrix. You have no idea how strong I've been, what I've done! When my son was in danger…"

"What _you've_ done?" Bellatrix interrupted with a cackle. "I know what you've done. Not a damn thing. When your son was in danger, when he was assigned his task – a task that should have been an honor! – you bitched and cried about it and begged Snape to make that fucking Unbreakable Vow with you! You fell to your knees and begged him, Cissy, literally begged, and cried, you cried like a grieving widow, until he said he would help, remember? Meanwhile, what did _I_ do? I taught your son to perform the Imperius Curse. I taught him Occlumency and started teaching him Legilimency. I taught him to perform the Cruciatus on animals. I taught him useful things! I talked him through his nerves! I comforted and encouraged him after his multiple failings! Where were you then? All that year? Oh, I know! You were moping about, hoping Snape would take care of things! You were pouting because your cheating husband was in Azkaban, where he deserved to be for fucking up our mission in the Department of Mysteries! Where else were you…?" Bellatrix tapped her chin as if thinking it over. "That's right! I remember! You were in the kitchen, trying to teach yourself to cook!" She chortled. "Like that did a fat lot of good for Draco, right? Fact is, your son turned to me because he couldn't talk to you, and know why? Because he was afraid to upset you, to send you over the edge, to send you further into a bottle. Because even your son knows you're weak!"

Narcissa squared her shoulders and rounded on her sister. "Worrying about one's child isn't a weakness! Killing something you love simply because someone told you to is! He set you up. He gave you that cat to make you kill it later. It wasn't a gift. It was a test!"

"You're wrong," argued Bellatrix, but she averted eye contact, unable to shake the nagging feeling her sister might be right, wondering if murder was on the Dark Lord's mind when He gave her Mr. Sticky-Whiskers in the first place. "Cissy, you're wrong."

"And you're delusional! You traded one master for another, Bella. First it was Stepfather and then the Dark Lord."

"Stepfather was never my master. I fought back against him, always."

"You let the Dark Lord do worse to you than Stepfather did and you tell yourself it's alright because He makes you feel special! You really think that you're special, don't you? But it isn't alright and you're _not_ special! You're not special, you're brainwashed! And that's weak! It's the epitome of weakness!"

Bellatrix's eyes flashed madly she drew her wand and pointed it at her sister.

"You're wrong, Cissy. You don't know… you don't know anything! First off, I _am_ special. _I am fucking special._ I'm His most faithful and most loyal and… and… and He chose me to… to…" She wanted to say, "Carry His heir," but she couldn't reveal Him to be Nova's father, so she switched gears. "You're soft, you're spoiled, and _you're_ the bloody epitome of weakness! That's why the Dark Lord thinks you're useless, it's why your husband cheats on you, it's why Stepfather liked you best, and it's why Mother thought you could accomplish no more than being pretty, and… and… and you know what else? You're so soft and spoiled and weak, that's why Father didn't even think you were his! That's right, Cissy! Father had doubts you were even his daughter, that's how unlike the rest of us you've always been!"

"You're lying."

"I'm not. Ask Andromeda. She'll remember."

"I won't ask her because I know you're lying. You're a liar. It's what you do."

Bellatrix chortled bitterly. "You can't call truth you don't want to hear a lie, little sister. Or should I call you little half-sister? In any case, the point is, you're weak, you raised your son to be weak - I mean, when you took the time to raise him, not when he was being brought up by a Squib wet nurse and some house elves and a nanny - and now we all have to suffer the consequences of your inadequacies. It's not your fault you weren't a great mother, Narcissa. You didn't have a decent role model. You did the best you could, I'm sure. Unfortunately, it just wasn't good enough."

"What happened to the girl you used to be, Bella?" asked Narcissa. Thanks to her Occlumency lessons, she managed to rein in her emotions, presenting a façade of cold indifference, even though she was dying inside. "What has become of the girl so strong she would offer herself up to be molested to protect her baby sister? The girl who taught herself to throw off the Imperius curse by age twelve? The girl who fought back against everyone and every thing her entire childhood no matter the cost? What now? Who are you? Last year, you would've killed me in front of my son if the Dark Lord had ordered it. Killed me, your own sister, in front of my child! But your devotion to Him has never wavered, has it? Not when he didn't find you for weeks after breaking you out of Azkaban, not when He made you use the Cruciatus curse on me, not when He assigned Draco that impossible task, hell, you didn't even question Him when He _raped_ you, when He cared so little for you and the baby inside you that cursed and beat you and left bruises all over your arms and thighs and throat, when He left Sev – Snape – to save your life without bothering to stick around and see if you could be saved! And now you're raising your daughter to be in loyal, unquestioning service to Him, just as you are?" Narcissa let out a cruel laugh. "You're pathetic. What happens when He wants to punish Nova for her first failure, eh? What happens when He demands you use the Cruciatus curse on her? What happens if He waits until she's seventeen like you were when He discovered you, and then decides He'd rather take _her_ to bed than her over-the-hill mother?" Bellatrix went ghost-white. She clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking. Narcissa continued, ice dripping from her voice. "You'd do _anything_ for Him, a man who tortures and controls and _abuses_ you, a man who is incapable of returning even a fraction of the love you feel for Him, a man who gave zero consideration to the baby you claim to love so much when He beat you nearly to death, and you think _I'm_ the one who's weak? Fuck you, Bellatrix Druella. I must be stronger than any other witch in the Wizarding world, because unlike everyone else, I'm not afraid of you." Narcissa stepped closer to her sister. Were she just a bit taller, they'd be nose to nose. Bellatrix's wand hand twitched, but Narcissa did back down. "Now get out, Bella. I may not be able to kick you out of my home, but I _can_ throw you out of my room."

Bellatrix raised her wand, placing the tip against her sister's temple, then running it down to her chin, but still Narcissa did not flinch. "Oh, I'm going. And for the record, Narcissa Malfoy, you _should_ be afraid of me. The Dark Lord's never made me do anything I didn't want to do. Keep that in mind."

Narcissa slapped her sister's wand hand away as casually as if swatting a mosquito. "I believe I ordered you to leave."

"With pleasure!" Bellatrix turned and stormed toward the door, then, remembering the reason she'd come in the first place, she did an abrupt turn, shoved her way past Narcissa, and entered the adjoining nursery, where she picked up sleeping Nova from the crib. "Say goodbye to Auntie Cissy," she said, cradling the infant. "You'll not be seeing her again."

"Good," said Narcissa, not meaning it in the slightest. "You think I'm such a horrible mother, and yet you've been relying on me to raise your child as if she's my own! You think you know everything? Raise her yourself."

"I _will_ raise her myself!" Bellatrix tossed her wild hair and puffed her chest out arrogantly. "I'll raise her completely by myself because I don't need help from anyone and I'll be the best damn mother any daughter has ever had and my child won't grow up soft like yours!"

"No, she'll grow up to be a soulless, sadistic psychopath, like you!"

"I'd rather have a soulless, sadistic psychopath for a daughter than a… than a… a…" Bellatrix's eyes filled with furious tears. "Than a mean girl like you!"

It was a terrible comeback, especially for her, but on that note, Bella swiveled around and stormed out of the nursery, slamming the door shut behind her. Narcissa rushed to the door, her hand going to the knob, not sure if she wanted to open it to apologize or have the last word, but when she heard both baby Nova and Bellatrix burst into tears in the hall she couldn't bring herself to move. She simply rested her forehead against the cool wood of the door frame, closed her eyes, and wished, not for the first time, that the Dark Lord had never come into their lives.

After that, Narcissa tried to speak to Draco about his failed excursion with his father and aunt, but he didn't want to talk about it, so she confronted Lucius in the master bedroom instead. She accused him of ruining their sweet boy, fully expecting another argument (which she was ready for – she was in that sort of mood) but to her surprise, and, frankly, her disappointment, he agreed and apologized. Then, also to her surprise, he asked to either return to the bed they shared or leave him alone.

"I'm tired," he said. "And I need to focus on the war now. I need to focus on getting back into good favor with the Dark Lord, for all of our sake. Any further screw-ups will likely get us killed so if you'll forgive me, ensuring that doesn't happen is my primary priority at the moment, not mending our broken marriage or engaging in whatever fight you're trying to pick."

"Fine," she said. He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, blond hair hanging limply across his face, and a part of her wanted to comfort him, but she knew she couldn't be the sort of comfort he needed, and so she left him alone.

It was over a week later, a couple of days after Easter, when Lucius finally saw a possible shot at getting himself and his family back on the Dark Lord's good side (if it could even be called a good side). Thanks to the recently adjusted wards protecting Malfoy Manor and its surrounding property from outside intruders, certain people without the Dark Mark were again able to apparate directly onto the grounds, outside the gate, down at the end of the path. And one of the first to take advantage of these new wards was none other than the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, along with other Snatchers, bringing to the Manor new denizens for the cellar dungeon… among them, they believed, Undesirable Number One: The Boy Who Lived.

Greyback rapped on the door several times, which Narcissa went to answer, as no one could enter without being let in by a Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, or the Dark Lord Himself.

"What is this?" she asked, her voice cold, emotionless. There were few she hated hosting in her home as much as she hated the presence of the Dark Lord, and Fenrir Greyback was high on the list.

"You know me!" he shouted, though he added his name. "We brought Harry Potter."

Narcissa's insides churned. She opened the door and regarded the boy carefully, as the Snatcher Scabior swore up and down it was really Potter. She raised her eyebrows. If this was truly him, he'd been hit with something. His face was all sorts of fucked up. She wondered who'd done it, and why, but didn't ask. "Bring them in," she said. "Follow me."

The occupants of the portraits in the long hall began to move into each other's frames, whispering, as Potter and his companions were dragged by. She ignored them. "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."

She wondered what Severus would say if he could see her, leading Potter to what might be his death. She couldn't think about it. Not now. She had to clear her mind. Close her mind. She couldn't let emotions control her. Besides… maybe it wasn't him. She'd only seen the boy in person twice, after all, and both times he'd been normal looking, wearing glasses, with his scar clearly visible.

"What is this?" asked Lucius when they entered the rarely used formal drawing room. It was the exact wording of her question upon their arrival. She sighed.

"They say they've got Potter. Draco, come here."

Draco examined the boy's face as if studying a painting in a gallery.

"Well, Draco," said Lucius. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

Without meaning to, Narcissa held her breath. She was torn. So torn. On the one hand, giving Harry Potter over to the Dark Lord would undoubtedly bring her family back into favor. But on the other, doing so would likely get the boy killed, and what would Severus think about that?

"I… I can't be sure," said Draco. Narcissa resisted the urge to twirl her hair or bite her lip (or, even better, to go get herself a glass of wine). Her husband appeared excited, but her son seemed scared.

"But look at him carefully! Look!" said Lucius. "Come closer! Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv–"

Greyback interrupted to remind them that he'd been the one to actually apprehend Potter, if it was indeed Potter, and Lucius mused that it might be a Stinging Jinx that distorted his facial features, though he thought he could also make out the infamous scar.

"I don't know," said Draco, unwilling to give a definitive yes. Narcissa slowly let out the breath she was holding.

"We had better be sure, Lucius," she said. "Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord. They say that this is his–" She was looking closely at the wand that was taken from him –"But it does not resemble Ollivander's description. If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing… Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?"

But even as she spoke, Narcissa was remembering what the Dark Lord did to Rowle and Dolohov… what she'd witnessed, and what Lucius had said happened after she stopped watching, and again she felt sick, picturing the same punishment being inflicted on her own son. If it came down to him or Potter, well, there was no question. Draco's was the life worth saving.

"Wait!" Narcissa said sharply, looking to the Mudblood girl. "She was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet!" (Her gaze quickly swept over the girl's figure, recalling how she's joked that she and Severus would be a good match and he'd countered by teasing her with the fact that Granger did not have to pad her bra.) "Look, Draco! Isn't that the Granger girl?"

"I…" Draco hesitated and immediately Narcissa felt guilty for having put him on the spot. "Maybe. Yeah."

This made Lucius even more excited, as he realized the redhead with them must be the Weasley boy, whom he hadn't seen in over five years. This almost certainly meant the third party was Potter.

The drawing room door opened and a figure momentarily shrouded in darkness entered. She asked the same question that had been first from the lips of her sister and brother-in-law: "What is this?"

Narcissa mentally worked even harder to clear her mind.

"What's happened, Cissy?"

It was the first time Bellatrix had spoken to Narcissa at all since their second, smaller fight in the kitchen on Easter Sunday, and the first time she'd called her Cissy since their initial row. Narcissa didn't answer.

"But surely," said Bellatrix, figuring it out for herself. "This is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"

Lucius confirmed, adding that Potter was with her, which clearly delighted Bellatrix. She pulled up her sleeve to summon the Dark Lord as Narcissa fought the urge to vomit (again. She'd just done so an hour before, shortly after dinner) but Lucius insisted he'd been about to do it. The two squabbled, as usual, and Bellatrix was positively livid when Lucius refused to release her wrist. Narcissa rolled her eyes. It was the same old battle and if she wasn't currently both so angry at both of them she couldn't stand it and so worried about what would happen once the Dark Lord arrived, she might have scolded them to knock it off.

"STOP!" screeched Bella suddenly, making Narcissa flinch. "Do not touch it! We shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"

Narcissa didn't understand. Neither, it seemed, did anyone else, but Bella, upon seeing the Sword of Gryffindor in the Snatchers' possession, flipped. She Stupefied all four Snatchers in turn, impressing even her sister with her ability to do so, then she used the Imperius to force Greyback to his knees. She questioned him about the sword, insisting "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"

Narcissa bristled at this. She didn't recall Severus mentioning anything to her about doing this little favor for her sister. Bellatrix then ordered Draco to move the unconscious men outside.

"If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

"Don't you dare speak to Draco like–" Narcissa began furiously, but Bellatrix cut her off.

"Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possible imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!"

Bellatrix not only sounded serious, she sounded panicked. Narcissa held her tongue. Draco did as he was told, levitating the four men out of the room. Bella began muttering, seemingly to herself.

"If it is indeed Potter… The Dark Lord wishes… if He finds out… I must know…" She turned back to Narcissa. "The prisoners must be placed in the cellar while I think what to do!"

"This is my house, Bella," said Narcissa in a snotty tone more appropriate of a teenager than a woman in her forties. "You don't give orders in my–"

"For fuck's sake!" snapped Bellatrix, adding in a shriek, "Do it! You have no idea of the danger we are in!" A thin stream of fire erupted from her wand, burning a hole in the carpet, which she didn't seem to notice. Narcissa hesitated, then turned to Greyback and ordered him to take the prisoners to the cellar.

But Bellatrix amended this request slightly.

She decided to keep the Mudblood.

Bellatrix used her silver dagger from the sheath hidden under her witch's robes, the robes she still wore whenever non-family members were in the Manor to hide what was left of the baby weight, and cut Granger free from the others. Greyback excited with the boys. Narcissa and Lucius remained in the drawing room.

Narcissa did not bother to fight the urge to twirl her hair as she anxiously watched her older sister torture the Mudblood girl, making her cry, making her scream. She wanted to leave the room, to return to the parlor, or the kitchen, or her temporary bedroom off the nursery, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. She'd never seen Bella like this. This was not the Bella who comforted her as a frightened child, the Bella who flirted casually with handsome waiters, the Bella who lovingly nursed her baby girl while singing softly.

This was the Bellatrix Lestrange known to the rest of the Wizarding world.

"Please, please stop!" Hermione Granger sobbed and begged for mercy that would not be forthcoming. "Please!"

"What else did you take?" demanded Bellatrix. "What else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

Draco returned as the girl was twitching on the floor, writhing in excruciating pain from the Cruciatus curse. She screamed and screamed and screamed and with each scream Narcissa fought the urge to be sick. She wondered if baby Nova, sleeping upstairs, could hear the screams. She wondered how old the baby would be the first time she'd witness her mother in a moment like this.

Narcissa opened her mouth to assure her sister that the girl couldn't be lying, no one could lie through that much torture, let alone a teenager, but before she could get the words out, Bellatrix again pulled her knife. She positioned herself over the body of the girl on the floor, her legs bent on either side of the girl's hips, and forced her arms out to her sides, like a T.

"I'll give you one more chance, Mudblood," Bellatrix whispered, leaning in close, holding the knife to Hermione Granger's throat. "What did you take from my vault?"

"We didn't take anything!" Granger insisted.

"Filthy, filthy Mudblood," said Bellatrix, her voice almost sing-song. She ran her knife lightly over the girl's skin, not leaving a mark. "Filthy, filthy Mudblood lies and steals. Filthy, filthy Mudblood thinks she's deserving of her wand. Filthy, filthy Mudblood thinks she's deserving of a place in our Wizarding world. Filthy, filthy Mudblood has forgotten her true place." With that, she threw herself down, covering the girl's body with her own, and began to carve letters into her forearm. Hermione Granger screamed and sobbed, but it wasn't until the word was done, etched forever into her skin, that Bellatrix whispered "How did you get into my vault?" then climbed off of her, stepping back, again training her wand on the girl, who whimpered. Bellatrix repeated herself in a scream. "How did you get into my vault?! Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

"We only met him tonight!" Hermione Granger sobbed, clutching her bleeding arm. She swore the sword was a copy. Lucius sent Draco down to fetch the goblin to confirm. Draco went even paler than usual, his grey eyes wide and fearful, but he complied. After he'd returned they heard a loud CRACK from the cellar dungeon. Lucius was about to send Draco to check on the source of this, but upon a sharp look from his wife, he ordered generally useless Wormtail to do it instead. While Wormtail was downstairs, Bellatrix continued to torment Hermione Granger with the Cruciatus curse, until the girl was no longer able to scream.

Upstairs, once the goblin confirmed that the sword was a fake, Bellatrix smiled, relieved, gleeful, even. "Good. And now… we call the Dark Lord!"

And she did.

Then she told the werewolf he could have the Mudblood, which Narcissa very nearly protested, but before anyone could move, the Weasley boy burst into the drawing room. He disarmed Bellatrix, catching Narcissa and the others off-guard, as Harry also entered. The Boy Who Lived Stupefied Lucius, which, as Narcissa would reflect later, was rather pointless as he was still without a wand of his own and therefore couldn't have done much, but she didn't say anything as her husband crumbled by the hearth of the fireplace. Rather she pulled out her own wand, and, pointing it at the boys, sent a stunning spell of her own, which unfortunately missed.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!" screamed Bellatrix. She was holding up Granger, who appeared to have passed out, with her knife to the girl's throat. "Drop your wands. Drop them or we'll see how filthy her blood is! I said drop them!"

They did. She ordered Draco to pick them up.

"Now," said Bella softly, calmly. "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you've done tonight."

There was an odd grinding noise above them. Narcissa was the first to glance up and discover the source. It was the chandelier, which was now hanging precariously, barely affixed to the ceiling. Narcissa's eyes widened as she realized it would fall. Which it did. Bellatrix, thanks to impeccable reflexes no longer dulled by her stint in Azkaban, dove out of the way just in time, but the glass shattered on top of Hermione Granger and the goblin. Shards flew everywhere, cutting Draco's face. He doubled over, bleeding. Narcissa ran to him, no longer caring about the Mudblood girl or the Weasley boy or Potter or her husband or her sister. Only Draco mattered. She hurried him out of the way and then spotted a small, familiar, bat-eared figure in the doorway. She directed her wand at him.

"Dobby!" she screamed. "You? You dropped the chandelier?"

He entered the room, more bold than she'd ever seen him.

"You must not hurt Harry Potter!" he squeaked bravely, pointing a shaking finger in her direction.

Fucking house elf.

"Kill him, Cissy!" demanded Bellatrix, but there was another CRACK and Narcissa found herself most unfortunately disarmed.

Bellatrix screamed at him for defying his masters, but he only looked upon her without fear and informed her, "Dobby is a free elf."

Narcissa was frozen, holding onto her bleeding son, still resisting the urge to be sick, while strangely hurt by the fact that Dobby would attack her family in this way after all his years of service to them. Had they really treated him _that_ badly? Before Narcissa could think of anything to do to prevent in inevitable, the prisoners began to disapparate. Furious, Bellatrix threw the only weapon she had at her disposal, the silver dagger, which must have made contact with someone or something as it did not land on the floor. But it didn't matter.

They escaped.

They escaped and the unarmed Black sisters were powerless to stop them.

They'd had Harry Potter, and now he was gone.

Then the Dark Lord arrived.


	43. Easter Break, 1998

**A/N: TRIGGER WARNING –** Includes Attempted Sexual Assault & References to Child Abuse. If you'd like to skip this, fast forward about halfway through the chapter. Unrelated, some dialogue in this chapter is borrowed from Chapter 33 of The Deathly Hallows. **–AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-three – Easter Break, 1998**

To say the Dark Lord was angry about Potter's escape and the possibility of a break-in at Gringotts would be a grave understatement. He was beyond angry, more so than the occupants of Malfoy Manor, save perhaps for Bellatrix, had ever seen.

Initially, He was livid about being Summoned away from what He had been doing. Then, once Bellatrix explained to Him that they'd had Potter but he escaped, He positively seethed, barely able to process this. When she added that there was a slim possibility her vault had been violated (though "the goblin swore the sword was a fake!") the Dark Lord's fury exploded from within Him, throwing them all to the floor with one wave of His wand. He then tortured each of them with the Cruciatus in turn. Then Rodolphus and Rabastan entered. The Dark Lord sent Rodolphus to Gringotts to ensure that both the sword and, more importantly, Hufflepuff's cup were still there, then, upon his exit, informed Bellatrix that she would be killed if either turned out to be missing.

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered, without a shred of doubt that He would do it. He'd entrusted that cup to her long ago, imparted upon her the importance of keeping it safe, and made it clear at that time what the consequence for failure would be, whereas the sword was to have been sent to her vault more recently by Severus Snape.

The Dark Lord then turned back to the others. Narcissa was still on the floor, too weak to rise, having never endured the Cruciatus Curse to that degree before. Draco was leaning against the wall, breathless, his face still bleeding from the cuts caused by the shattered chandelier. Lucius was struggling to remain upright, using his snake-head walking stick for support. But Bellatrix was standing with her back straight, facing the Dark Lord, and trying to muster up a bit of bravado even though she was trembling. It was the most frightened Narcissa had ever seen her older sister.

"The Cruciatus is not sufficient enough for this," the Dark Lord said in His high, cold, calculating voice. "Since my return I have used the Cruciatus on Avery, on Rookwood, on Rowle and on Dolohov, on Severus Snape, on the Lestrange brothers, on Fenrir Greyback, and on you…" (He pointed His wand at Bellatrix) "Among others. Typically, it will suffice. But here? Here, it is not enough. CRUCIO."

Bellatrix doubled over, letting out a squeak from the pain, though she tried to fight it. For no reason at all, the Dark Lord then did the same to Rabastan, before turning His wand on Lucius, on Draco, and, at last, back on Narcissa, on whom He'd started. But unlike those before her, He did not utter the Cruciatus Curse. He did not say a word. He regarded her carefully, a pathetic figure on the floor, clenching her teeth to keep from being sick, one hand holding herself up, the other on her abdomen. He flicked His wand. She flinched. As did her husband, son, and sister.

"Interesting," mused the Dark Lord. "When I direct my anger toward you, Narcissa, it seems I do not only hurt you." He flicked it again. Again, the three Malfoys and Bellatrix flinched. The Dark Lord let out a high, cold laugh. He stepped closer to Narcissa, pointing the wand at her throat, and whispered, "Crucio."

It did not hurt as much as the curse He'd already hit her with, but it was still far worse than what she'd endured the time He'd made Bella do it to her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and tasted blood. He laughed again.

"Get out, Lestrange," He said to Rabastan, who hurried away eager to be far from the drawing room. "Come here, _Mrs_. Malfoy," the Dark Lord added, putting unsettling emphasis on the missus.

Narcissa forced herself to her feet and walked weakly over to Him. When she was perhaps half an arm's length away, He reached out and grabbed her by the hair as He often did to Bellatrix. "Kneel," He ordered. She complied, feeling the crunch of broken glass under her knees as it cut through her floor-length dress, surely drawing blood.

"What shall I do to you?" He asked, placing the tip of His wand to her temple. This was like a moment out of one of her nightmares, except usually she was the one being forced to watch as He tortured those she loved, namely Draco. Or, as of late, Severus.

"Shall I kill her?" the Dark Lord hissed, addressing the others. "Put her out of her misery?"

"No, my Lord, please!" protested Lucius. Narcissa turned her face toward her husband and son, her eyes wide.

"No?" asked the Dark Lord, as if genuinely curious. "I should _not_ put her out of her misery? You wish her to be miserable?"

"No! Yes! I mean… Please, my Lord, just don't kill her," begged Lucius.

Draco reached one hand out toward his mother, seemingly involuntarily, as though he didn't realize he was doing it. He looked like a small child needing to be picked up. This crushed her. She bit her bleeding lip again to keep from crying.

"Punish me, my Lord," Lucius continued. "It is my fault, not hers."

"She was armed with her wand, wasn't she?" asked the Dark Lord. "You were not. She let the boy escape, didn't she? You did not. She let them into the Manor, didn't she? You did not. Perhaps it was her hesitation that allowed them to get away. Let's see, shall we?"

Still holding onto the back of her hair, the Dark Lord forced her to look up at Him. She felt it as He invaded her mind and, thinking it best not to try to block Him, she simply attempted to clear herself of emotion and let Him access the memory He sought – the events of that evening. Once He'd seen the boys, the house elf, the goblin, and the Mudblood disapparate, He drew back His hand and struck Narcissa across the face, hard, with his fist. She felt as though her cheekbone had shattered and wondered if this had been what it was like for Bella four months earlier. A trickle of blood dripped from her nose. She wiped it on her sleeve. He brought back his fist to hit her again.

"No!" cried Bellatrix, taking a step forward, but He held up a hand and stopped her, sending her flying backward. When she scrambled to her feet again, there was a jagged cut along her upper chest, above the neckline of her dress. She ignored it, stepping tentatively forward. "Please, my Lord," she whispered. "Please, I–"

"I could continue to punish each of you individually," He interrupted, a cruel smiling playing on His lips, "Or I could punish you all at once, by punishing one and making the rest of you witness it. It's alright if you need to close your eyes, my dear boy," He hissed at Draco with false concern. "You'll still be able to hear her scream."

"No," said Bellatrix, more forcefully this time. "No, my Lord, you can't!"

"I can't?" He looked to her with surprise. "Certainly, I can. The only question is, what should I do to her first?" He pressed the tip of His wand against her heart and for the third time in under ten minutes, He murmured, "Crucio."

The pain would have been enough to bring her back to the floor if He hadn't been holding her up by her hair. The glass under her knees shattered further and cut deeper into her skin as she twitched and writhed.

"Mum," she heard Draco whisper fearfully, and the pain in his voice cut her more deeply than the glass. When it was over, the Dark Lord threw her down away from Him, causing her body to twist. She put her hands out to stop herself from falling flat onto her face. As a result, her palms became embedded with bits of chandelier glass too.

"Punish me," requested Bellatrix, stepping closer to the Master she so adored. "It is my fault, my Lord. I should have Summoned you straight away. I should have let you interrogate the girl. I should have handed over Potter the moment we realized it was him."

"Yes," agreed the Dark Lord. "You should have. But you did not. And now, you shall suffer." Again He grabbed Narcissa by the hair, this time forcing her down to the floor on her back. He knelt over her as Bellatrix had the Granger girl, with His knees on either side of her hips. "What torture shall I inflict on you next, Mrs. Malfoy? What would hurt you the most?"

The truth was, what would hurt the most would be if He were to inflict this pain on her son or her lover or her baby niece, or even her husband or her sister, but because she couldn't let Him know this, she cleared her mind and forced herself to breathe as steadily as possible, not answering.

"You're a reasonably attractive woman," He said, pressing the tip of His wand against the nearly faded 'love bite' she was still covering with make up. "You might be a nice change of…" His red eyes darted to Bellatrix, sweeping over her figure, and back to Narcissa. "Pace."

"No!" shouted Lucius, taking several steps toward them. The Dark Lord flicked His wrist, throwing Lucius backward against the wall as he had Bella. When Lucius rose, he, too, was bleeding, visible through a slash in the chest of his wizard's robes.

"I do not believe I gave you permission to move," said the Dark Lord. "Where was I? Ah, yes. You're a reasonably attractive woman…"

Though she was trying to be strong, Narcissa couldn't hold back a whimper. This was just like her nightmares, worse than her nightmares. This was just like her childhood, except she was never afraid Stepfather would murder her once he was done.

"Diffindo," hissed the Dark Lord, and, as if it had become a knife, the tip of His wand cut open the front of her dress and slip, straight down the center, from her neckline to her navel.

"Please, my Lord," begged Lucius. "Don't do this! Not to my wife!"

"I told you before that I do not allow my Death Eaters to disappoint me three times, Lucius. And yet you have. More than three. Perhaps, then, instead of making an example out of your wife, I should simply kill you and be done with it? What do you say? I'll take your life but spare her pain?"

Lucius did not respond. Narcissa wasn't sure she wanted him to. While she didn't want her son to witness whatever the Dark Lord was about to do, she also did not wish for him to lose his father. She could recover from this. She'd recovered (more or less) from worse. But death? There would be no coming back.

"Well, Lucius?" asked the Dark Lord. When Malfoy still failed to respond, the Dark Lord laughed, a shrill, hollow laugh, and returned His attention to Narcissa. "Your husband clearly values His own life over yours. Smart man."

"But I don't!" exclaimed Bellatrix, rushing forward again, her shoes crunching over broken glass. "If you kill her, my Lord, I'll kill myself. I swear I will! I'll kill myself and the baby too!"

Narcissa opened her mouth to protest this, but the Dark Lord spoke before she could.

"Oh, Bella," He said, shaking His head. "Sweet, simple Bella. Fear not. I have no intention of killing Mrs. Malfoy. On the contrary, I'd rather she live with this. How else will she learn? How else will any of you learn? I have used the Cruciatus on each of you multiple times in the past and feel it is fair to deem it unsuccessful." He grabbed hold of the front of Narcissa's dress to the left side of the cut He'd created and further tore the material, exposing half of her chest, which was, thankfully, still covered by a black bra. He then placed one cold, skull-white hand over her breast, barely caressing the skin.

"Not bad," He assessed. "But is this… padding?" (Despite her fear, she very nearly rolled her eyes at this. She chose to close them instead.) His wand hand moved down to her abdomen, terrifying her for a different reason. He traced the tip of His wand horizontally across her midsection. "I wonder what other secrets you're hiding under your dresses and robes and slips and… padding?"

"Please, my Lord…" she whispered, terrified having His hand on her midsection meant He would discover her current most closely guarded secret. "Please, I ask only one thing. Please, please let Draco leave the room. Please. Do what you want to me, but please, I beg of you, don't let my son see. Don't make him watch. He's just a boy."

"Very well," said the Dark Lord, shocking them all. "Draco, you may wait out in the hall." His thin lips curved into a smile. "Sometimes what we cannot see is more frightening than what we can, or so I'm told."

"Mother?" said Draco hesitantly, not wanting to witness whatever was about to happen, but also unwilling to leave her in the hands of their cruel master.

"Draco, go!" Narcissa ordered, her voice stronger than she would have expected it to sound. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"I'm sorry, Mum," Draco said softly. He hurried from the room, collapsing against the wall in the hallway, his hands over his ears, feeling very much like the child she saw him as and not at all like the grown man his father and aunt wanted him to be.

"Open your eyes," the Dark Lord demanded. Narcissa complied. "I want to be certain you're completely cognizant."

"I am," she assured Him.

"Good." He forced up her skirt, grabbed her thigh, and forced her leg into a bent position, with her knee just behind the back of His arm. "I've always rather wondered how you compare to your sister. You're so unlike each other. It is difficult to believe you're related."

"We _are_ related," said Bellatrix. She and Narcissa made eye contact. "We are from the same mother and the same father and we grew up in the same home having the same experiences and we are probably more alike than even the two of us realize. You simply _can't_ kill her, my Lord. She's a mother, a wonderful mother, not just to her son, but she's like a second mother to ou– to _my_ daughter. I need her. Please, my Lord. I've never asked you for a favor, I've never begged you for mercy, I've never requested _anything_ of you before, not in all these years. But now, please, I'm pleading with you to spare Narcissa."

Narcissa's eyes filled with tears as she recognized this as an apology for what was said during their fight.

"I told you already, Bella," said the Dark Lord with a touch of annoyance, "I do not plan to kill her. As you are no doubt aware, there are worse ways to punish a woman." He withdrew His long fingers from her chest, wrapping them around her throat instead. He began to apply pressure as His lower body thrust once against hers. "You'll see."

"I'm sorry," whispered Lucius, looking horror-struck. He backed toward the hallway. "I'm sorry, Narcissa. I can't watch. I can't. I'm sorry."

Without awaiting permission from the Dark Lord, he joined his son in the hall.

"Weak," commented the Dark Lord, glancing toward the doorway with his red slit eyes. "He's always been weak."

Narcissa bristled at this, reminded of what her sister had said, realizing just how twisted the Dark Lord had made Bella's perspective when it came to weakness and strength, neither of which He seemed to know much about, and for the first time in his presence, anger replaced fear as her primary emotion. Strength wasn't being able to hurt others without remorse. Strength was not the ability to inflict pain or commit acts of torture. Strength was not about showing dominance over those who were already weaker. Strength was what Bellatrix had as a child, when she offered herself up to Stepfather to protect her sister. Strength was making the Unbreakable Vow with a desperate mother even though failure would be fatal. Strength was the willingness to die in order to save a loved one.

Which gave Narcissa an idea.

But how to execute it?

"Are you going to rape her?" Bellatrix asked point-blank, knowing the answer but hoping He'd prove her wrong.

"Why do you ask? Did you want to help? I know you like feeling useful, my most loyal and faithful follower. Come over here, then. I'm hoping she'll try to resist. You can hold her down."

"No, my Lord," answered Bellatrix in a small, quivering voice.

"You're just going to watch, then? Suit yourself." The hand on Narcissa's throat moved back to her breast, which He squeezed, hard enough to cause pain, as He pressed against her bare outer thigh with the tip of His wand and readjusted His position over her, grinding His pelvis against hers, which caused shards of glass to poke into her lower back.

"Please," Bellatrix begged. "Please, my Lord… Please Master, my Lord, Love, please, don't. You can have me."

"I've had you," He said dismissively, running one long, cold fingertip from the center of Narcissa's throat to her naval.

Bellatrix sounded on the verge of tears. "But she's my _sister_."

"It's alright," said Narcissa, finally finding her voice, her mind calm and clear and closed to any unwanted intrusion. "Do it. I'm ready. Go ahead."

"Excuse me?" asked the Dark Lord. He withdrew His hand.

"Let's get it over with," said Narcissa, as if she was speaking of ripping off a bandage. "I'm not afraid, Bella. Don't worry about me. I've been through worse. You and I both know it. So if that's… if that's what's going to happen, if this is what has to happen in order for my family to be sufficiently punished for disappointing the Dark Lord, so be it. But let's get on with it. I'm not afraid. I'm ready."

"You're… not afraid?" asked the Dark Lord, suddenly realizing He no longer felt fear emanating from her, thus she must be telling the truth. But how could that be? It was impossible. "You _must be_ afraid."

"No," said Narcissa. "What I am is exhausted. It's exhausting, living here, Death Eaters coming and going all the time, worrying about my sister and my husband and my son and whether they'll succeed or fail in whatever dangerous mission you send them out on next, staying up all night or spending all day with the baby whenever needed, worrying about the course this war is taking, what will happen next, will we live, will we die? I'm tired and I'm an alcoholic and I've already got enough material for a lifetime of nightmares, thanks to our rotten childhood, so if you're going to do it, just do it. No matter how bad it is – and I trust you'll make it bad, because you can – it can't possibly be worse than the first time. At least I'm an adult now. I understand what's happening. I'll either survive, or you'll kill me. I understand. I've accepted it."

He jaw dropped as he glared at her, shocked and furious, because without the ability to cause fear, what did He have?

"Fuck," He swore, an odd sounding word coming from Him. And then, just as she predicted, He invaded her mind. But she was ready. Closing it off from everything she didn't want Him to see, she threw up a distracting memory instead, her very worst one, the one she always hid from Severus, the primary reason she'd long been addicted to Dreamless Sleep.

 _She was five. Stepfather had just finished doing… had just finished… he was just leaving her bedroom for the first time. For_ her _first time. And she was feeling scared and wounded and especially confused. She struggled to pull her nightgown back on, getting tangled in the sleeves, and stomped her foot in frustration. She was crying._

 _"_ _Come here," said nine-year-old Bella, climbing out her her own bed to re-dress her little sister. "I'll fix it."_

 _Once she was dressed, Bella grabbed a handkerchief from the top drawer of their dresser and used it to wipe the snot running from Cissy's button nose. She then grabbed the littler girl's stuff animal off the bed and handed it to her._

 _"_ _I… I… I…" hiccupped little Cissy, clutching Babbity Rabbity. She rubbed his soft ear against her chin. She didn't know what else to do._

 _Bella pulled back the covers of her own bed, across from Narcissa's bottom bunk, and climbed in._

 _"_ _Come here," she said. "You can sleep with me. You'll feel better if you're not alone." "But… but…" stammered the tiny, pale blonde. She didn't want her sister. She wanted her mummy._

 _"_ _She's right, you know," came the voice of Andromeda, age seven, from the top bunk. Her eyes were closed. She'd pretended to be sleeping the entire time, whereas Stepfather had Stunned Bella to keep her quiet. "You'll feel better if you're not alone. And we both know what you're thinking, but no. If you wake Mother, she'll just be angry at you. Trust me."_

 _"_ _I twust you," said Cissy, though she couldn't understand why Mummy would be angry at_ her _when it was Stepfather who had been bad. She climbed into bed with Bella but didn't feel better, not even with her big sister's arms wrapped protectively around her. For the longest time, she couldn't sleep, and once she finally did doze off…_

 _"_ _Cissy! Eww! What did you do?" shrieked Bella, jumping out of bed. "I'm all wet! That's disgusting!"_

 _"_ _Shuttup Bella," growled Meda, covering her head with her pillow. "I'm sleeping."_

 _"_ _She wet the bed!" exclaimed Bella._

 _"_ _I'm sowwy!" cried Cissy, hugging Babbity Rabbity to her chest. "I had a bad dweam!"_

 _"_ _Aww," said Meda, throwng her pillow aside. She leaned over the top bunk, staring down at them. "Did the baby have a bad dream? Poor baby." She rolled her eyes, looking much older than her seven years. "Don't worry, Cissy. You'll get used to it."_

 _"_ _Gross!" shrieked Bella, always the drama queen. "My bloody sheets are soaked!"_

 _"_ _I'm sowwy!" sobbed Cissy. "I'm sowwy, Bewwa! I'm sowwy! I didn't mean to! It just happened!"_

 _"_ _Everything's wet! Ugh! You're five, for fuck's sake! Grow up!" shouted Bella._

 _Then the bedroom door creaked open._

 _"_ _Bellatrix Druella!" snapped their mother. All three girls froze. "What have I told you about that language in this house?"_

 _"_ _Sorry, Mother," said Bellatrix, going white. Back then, she was more afraid of Mother than of Stepfather. "I didn't mean to wake you."_

 _"_ _Well, you did. What's going on in here?"_

 _"_ _Cissy wet the bed," said Meda casually, flopping onto her back, replacing the pillow over her face._

 _"_ _What?" Mother immediately pulled back Narcissa's blanket and felt the sheet, which was dry. "Are you certain?"_

 _"_ _Not her own bed, Bella's bed," came Meda's muffled voice._

 _Bellatrix glared at her. "Tattletale."_

 _"_ _Narcissa Elladora Black!" snapped Mother. "Is this true? You wet the bed?"_

 _"_ _Yes, Mummy," admitted Cissy, gazing up at her with wide, apologetic grey eyes._

 _"_ _Why were you sleeping with your sister?"_

 _"_ _Don't say it," whispered Bella, but Cissy didn't understand, and so she told Mother everything, everything Stepfather had done, how he'd touched her, and where, and the way he'd_ looked _at her, and what he'd said about not telling, and how she'd cried, and Bella had let her share her bed, and how she'd then had a bad dream and woken up after having the 'accident.'_

 _Mother listened, expressionless, as Andromeda and Bellatrix held their breath, both remembering the first time they'd tried to tell Mother this very story._

 _When she finished, Cissy dropped her bunny and reached her arms up to her mother, wanting to be lifted, hugged, comforted. Wanting to be reassured it would never happen again._

 _Instead, Mother grabbed her roughly by the arm, slapped her hard across the face, then turned her around and used the hex she'd invented herself, the one that made a whip out of her wand, to snap against the backs of Cissy's bare legs, just below the hem of her damp nightgown._

 _"_ _Liar!" shrieked Mother, whipping Cissy, who sobbed harder with each blow. "You're telling lies, revolting lies, to make excuses for your vile behavior! Five year olds don't wet the bed, Narcissa! Bella will sleep in your bed tonight – get over there, Bellatrix – and you'll sleep on the floor like the animal you've emulated."_

 _"_ _Pwease, Mummy!" cried Cissy, shaking with sobs, barely able to breath. "Pwease, Mummy, I'm not wying! I'm not! It's the twuth! I pwomise!"_

 _"_ _Liar!" shrieked Mother again. There were raised red welts forming on the backs of Narcissa's short, pudgy pale thighs. With the next crack of the whip, one broke open and began to bleed. "Vile, filthy girl." She flung Narcissa to the floor. "That's your bed tonight. Take off that wet nightgown, rinse it in the sink, put on something clean, and go to sleep."_

 _"_ _Mummy?" Cissy stared up at her mother, terrified, and even more confused than she'd been when Stepfather first slipped into their room and woke her a few hours earlier. Again she reached her arms up, still wanting to be comforted. "Mummy, I wuv you."_

 _"_ _Not now, Narcissa," snapped their mother. "I'm in no mood."  
_

 _"_ _Mummy…" Cissy kept her arms extended, baffled by this reaction from her beloved mother. "Mummy, am I bad?"_

 _"_ _Yes," snapped her mother. She raised her wand. Cissy flinched, lowering her arms, wrapping them around herself instead. Meda pressed down harder on the pillow over her face, wanting to block out the whole world. Bella clenched her fists in anger. Mother momentarily seemed to soften. She slipped the wand into the pocket of her nightgown and sighed. "No. You are not bad. You are not a bad girl, Narcissa. But you have behaved badly. Wetting the bed at your age is bad and lying is worse. Now get cleaned up, and go to sleep. I'm going back to sleep. We all need to go back to sleep. And as a favor to you, I won't relay to your stepfather the rubbish you tried to tell me about him. In exchange, you'll never bring it up again. Fair enough, Little One? You understand?" When Cissy didn't respond, Mother' brow furrowed. She raised her hand, making Cissy flinch again. "Answer me! I asked if you understand?"_

 _"_ _Yes! Yes, Mummy. I'm sowwy. I undehstand."_

 _"_ _Good." Mother shot Bellatrix a look of annoyance. "Help her clean up. Leave your sheets on the end of the bed. The maid comes tomorrow. She can deal with the mess in the morning."_

 _After Mother stormed out, Meda let out a massive sigh._

 _"_ _Good going, Cissy. Now she's angry. Why couldn't you keep your stupid baby mouth shut, you ickle toerag? What'd you have to go and pee yourself for anyway? Baby."_

 _"_ _I'm not a baby!" Cissy insisted, cradling her bunny, breathing sharply, tears streaming freely down her cheeks._

 _"_ _You_ are _a baby," said Bella gently. "But it's okay. I'll take care of you." She tried to smile reassuringly. "I like babies."_

 _"_ _I hate babies," said Meda from the top bunk. "I hate babies and I hate children and I hate adults. I hate Mother and I hate Stepfather and I hate both of you and I especially hate everyone in the whole wide world, witches and wizards and Muggles and Mudbloods and half-bloods and giants and goblins and trolls and anybody else I might have missed. I hate them all."_

 _"_ _Go to sleep, Andromeda," ordered Bella. "You're a real bitch when you're tired." She took Cissy's hand and led her over to the dresser for a fresh nightgown. "Come on, Cissy. I'll help you. We'll share your bed. You won't have to sleep on the floor tonight. But I hope you learned that you can never, ever talk to Mother about what Stepfather does, okay? You can't mention it ever again."_

 _"_ _We used to be like you," said Meda with a cynicism more deserving of someone five times her age. "We thought she needed to know. We thought she might do something to… to pra… to prod… What's the word, Bella?"_

 _"_ _Protect," supplied Bella. "To protect us."_

 _"_ _Yes, that's it. To protect us. We thought she might actually care about what he was doing. Surprise! She doesn't."_

 _"_ _But… but… but… Mummy?" replied Cissy, not comprehending any of this at all._

 _"_ _Call her Mother, not Mummy," said Bellatrix. "Mummy is a word babies say. You're not a baby anymore. This was your last day as a baby. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and start life over as a big girl, understand?"_

 _"_ _No!" answered Cissy honestly._

 _"_ _Cissy doesn't understand and Mother doesn't care," said Meda bitterly. "Mother didn't care when Bella told her, she didn't care when I told her, and obviously she didn't care when you just told her. You're lucky all you got was slapped across the face and whipped on the legs. She beat me with a wooden spoon then used some hex to carve liar into the back of my hand." Andromeda rubbed the spot as if the word were still there. "And she beat the snot out of Bella because she wouldn't admit to making it up."_

 _"_ _It's okay," said Bella, pulling Cissy's nightgown off over her head. She grabbed her hand. "I'll take care of you. Come with me to the loo. Let's get you cleaned up."_

As abruptly as He entered her mind, the Dark Lord exited it. When He and Narcissa again made eye contact, she was surprised to see that He looked repulsed. Not sympathetic, and not sorry, but utterly disgusted. Apparently the depths of His depravity did not extend to the sexual abuse of children, which Bellatrix already knew, considering His reaction thirty years ago when He'd discovered what had been happening to the Black sisters.

"How old were you then?" the Dark Lord asked, even though He knew the answer.

"Five," Narcissa whispered.

"And you're truly not afraid of what I'm about to do to you?"

"Being touched by my stepfather wasn't the worst part of being molested for the first time," she said with a tone of indifferent professionalism that seemed contrary to the situation. "Being labeled a liar by my mother was. I loved her. I trusted her to protect me. But as you clearly saw, she did quite the opposite. So you can do whatever you wish to me. It can't be worse than that. And I'm too tired to be frightened."

The Dark Lord stared down at her for several seconds, unmoving, and then, just as her mother had, He slapped her hard across the face, not with a fist this time but with His open palm. He then rose, stepping away from her, pointed His wand at Bellatrix, and furiously shouted, "CRUCIO!" Bella dropped to the floor in excruciating pain. With one last disdainful look at Narcissa, He disapparated.

Narcissa could not get up, not right away. She was in pain and – despite what she'd told the Dark Lord – she was indeed afraid. She lay motionless, staring at the ceiling where the chandelier had been, listening to Bellatrix gasp and sputter. Bella was trying to regain control of herself after perhaps the worst Cruciatus Curse she'd ever endured, save for the ones she didn't remember that night she was tortured.

"Cissy," Bellatrix said once she'd caught her breath. "Cissy, are you alright?"

"I'm alright," she answered, still too stunned to move. Bellatrix hurried over to help her up.

"Cissy, I'm sorry we had that fight. I'm sorry I said Father wasn't your father. I'm sorry I said Draco–"

"I'm sorry, too," said Narcissa, shaking shards of glass off her dress. She needed a long bath in a tub full of Essence of Murtlap and Dittany.

Bella tugged her sister's hair. "I'd hug you, but…"

"But you'd just end up pushing glass further into my… everywhere. I have to go get undressed. I… Thank you."

"For what?" asked Bellatrix, truly perplexed. "I couldn't help you."

Narcissa shrugged, tears stinging her eyes. "You did help me. You stayed."

Bella leaned forward and kissed her sister on the forehead. "I have to go out to the courtyard to deal with those stunned Snatchers. I'm in a mood. I'll take it out on them. We'll talk later?"

"Yes." Narcissa nodded, ignoring the stabbing pains (literally, stabbing) all through her back. "We'll talk later, Love."

Bellatrix hurried out the back of the drawing room toward the courtyard, while Narcissa, holding closed the front of her dress, headed to the hall. Lucius and Draco were still seated against the wall, looking distraught. They hurried to their feet upon sight of her.

"You're… Narcissa, you're… Are you…?" stammered Lucius. "I couldn't hear…"

"He hit me," said Narcissa. "He hit me and He cursed Bella and that was all." She added sarcastically, "Thanks so much, though, for doing your best to come to my defense. I certainly felt safer knowing you were here, hiding out in the hallway."

"Narcissa! He would have killed me if I'd tried defending you any more than I did!"

"It's no matter," she said. "Forget about it."

"Mother, are you alright?" Draco moved to wrap his arms around her but she stopped him.

"I love you, Draco," she said, before placing a kiss on his cheek. "But I don't wish to be touched right now." She shot a furious look in Lucius' direction. "Or perhaps ever again."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Pet, but…"

"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't apologize, don't call me Pet. I'm going to my room. I'll see you both in the morning. Goodnight Draco, darling. Goodnight, Lucius."

"Goodnight, Mother."

"Goodnight, Narcissa."

Once upstairs in the loo off her temporary room, Narcissa undressed carefully. She threw her destroyed dress, robe, and slip directly in the trash for the house elves to dispose of and wished she'd brewed herself more healing potions because there was nothing useful in her cabinet. She picked glass out of her skin and shook it from her hair, Vanishing any she could find. She contemplated taking a shower to wash away any remaining shards, not to mention the blood, but was afraid the running water would prove painful, thus after she picked at her skin with tweezers, she took a damp washcloth to her knees, thighs, shoulder blades, neck, arms, palms, and face instead.

When she heard a knock at the door, she assumed it was Bella, perhaps coming with the baby. She threw on her robe and answered it to find Lucius standing there, looking uncomfortable.

"I thought… I thought you might need me? I gave this to Draco for the cuts on his face." He handed her a vial of liquid and a dropper. "It's Essence of Murtlap. I assume you might…"

"Thank you," she said, taking both.

"I'm sorry I couldn't watch." His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, as if he'd been crying. "I'm sorry I left you alone."

"I wasn't alone. My sister stayed."

"And He didn't…? I wasn't sure… if you lied for… for Draco's benefit?"

"I didn't lie. He hit me. He hit me and tried to frighten me and that's all."

Lucius nodded, unable to maintain eye contact with his wife.

"This is my fault, Narcissa. If I hadn't failed to secure that prophecy two years ago…"

"It's not your fault, Lucius. The Potter boy has a habit of getting out of situations that would mean certain death for wizards far older, more capable, and better trained. Maybe he's lucky. Maybe he _is_ the 'chosen one.' I mean, just look at what happened today. He disarmed my sister – my _sister_! – and managed to escape unharmed from a woman who can perform Unforgivable Curses without a wand. She could have easily taken him, the Granger girl, the Weasley boy, the house elf, and that goblin all at once in a duel, and yet she failed too, just as I did, and you did, and Draco, and Wormtail. Where is Wormtail, anyway? He never returned from the cellar."

"He's dead."

"Oh." Though she was curious, she did not ask any follow up questions. She'd never liked Wormtail, never trusted him, and did not want him in her home, but in general he kept to himself and didn't bother the other occupants of Malfoy Manor, thus his death was largely inconsequential to her.

"Are you in much pain?" asked Lucius, gently taking one of Narcissa's hands in his. He turned it over, examining her palm, which looked as though it was covered in dozens of parchment cuts, small, and not deep, but irritating.

"There are more like those all down my back and on my knees. Some are deeper. This Essence of Murtlap will help, but it's not enough."

He nodded. "I'll Owl Severus to see if he can bring us more. Or anything else that might be effective."

"It's alright," she said quietly, not sure she wanted Severus to see her this way, all cut up, weak, and wounded, with the beginning of a black eye and a bruised cheek from having been struck twice, not to mention her lip, cut open by her own teeth.

"I shouldn't have left you alone." Lucius pressed his lips lightly to her injured palm before releasing her hand. "It was cowardly. I'm sorry."

"I already told you, I wasn't alone. My sister remained with me."

"She's stronger than I am."

"She's stronger than most people."

"Have you made up then? You and she?"

"Yes. Our row was… it was stupid. We both said cruel things. Some of them we meant, but none should have been said aloud. And some we said simply to hurt each other."

"It's incredible what people who love each other will say just to hurt each other," said Lucius. His blue eyes met Narcissa's grey ones. "Can we be fixed?"

She shifted her gaze to the tapestry on the hallway wall over his left shoulder. "I thought you didn't want to work on mending our marriage right now. We need to focus on getting back in good favor with the Dark Lord, remember?"

"I remember."

"If you want to resume seeing her…"

"I don't."

"Or if you want to see someone else…"

"I don't want that, either."

"Then I don't know what to tell you, Lucius." She forced herself to look at him. He was clean-shaven now, but his hair remained uncombed, there was exhaustion evident in his red-rimmed eyes, and even his posture wasn't what it used to be: his shoulders were slumped, making him appear shorter and decidedly less regal.

"I know you're unhappy with me," he said cautiously. "But do you still love me?"

She reached up to twirl her hair but brought her hand back down, hyper-aware of this 'tell' since her recent conversation with Severus.

"Narcissa? I asked if you still love me."

"Lucius…"

Did she still love him? She wasn't _in love_ with him, that was certain. She didn't want him in a romantic or physical way. She didn't want to share his bed or even share his name, and if not for the war and Severus' insistence that it would be dangerous should anyone find out about them, she would have left already. But could she honestly say she didn't love him, not at all? The man who'd been by her side for thirty years, her husband of two and a half decades, the father of her only son?

"Narcissa?" he said pleadingly. "I'm asking, do you love me?"

"I believe I'll always love you," she quietly admitted, because it was the truth. "But I don't know that our marriage is worth saving."

He nodded. It seemed this was the answer he'd been expecting.

"I'll try to get you more of that." He tapped the vial in her hand. "If you need me for anything… you know where I'll be."

"Thank you, Lucius," she whispered. He nodded again, turned, and headed down the hall toward the master bedroom, dejected.

Fighting back tears of guilt and pain, Narcissa hung her robe on the bedpost, used up the Essence of Murtlap on all the places that stung most, wrapped bandages around her bloodied hands, and downed a dosage of Dreamless Sleep. Then she pulled on her favorite soft white nightgown and crawled into bed without even checking her notebook for a message from Severus. She positioned herself uncomfortably on her side, since being on her back made it feel like still-embedded glass was being pushed deeper into her skin.

"I don't want him to worry about us," she whispered to the darkness, her bandaged right hand resting on her lower abdomen. "There won't be anything he can do to help, so what's the good in telling him?"

For the next three days she stayed in her room reading, sleeping, drinking just enough to keep the edge off and dull the pain, entertaining short daily visits from her son, sister, and niece… and vomiting.

Every morning.

Like clockwork.

For the past week.

Exactly the way it had been when she was seventeen and desperate to make Lucius marry her. Exactly the way it had been when she learned she was expecting Draco. Exactly the way it had been when Lucius went to Azkaban and she wrote Severus begging for help.

She didn't know it, but with each day Lucius became increasingly worried about her. He wasn't sure he believed her when she said she hadn't been violated by the Dark Lord – perhaps she was lying to spare him, or to spare Draco, or because she couldn't admit it to herself – and when she did allow him to enter her room to talk to her, he noticed that she sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, clearly in pain, and kept white bandaging wrapped around her palms. He had no idea what to do and she swore she didn't need his help, but he hoped she would accept the help of someone else, someone who might know what to do, someone who'd been a pseudo-healer for the Dark Lord's Death Eaters all through the First War and had taken up the task again in the last couple of years.

It took three days for Severus to receive Lucius' Owl. In that time he'd also become increasingly anxious, but for him it was over the lack of communication from Narcissa. At one point, in a bit of a panic, he'd written to her that if she didn't respond he would apparate to Malfoy Manor right then, risking the Dark Lord's wrath, to check on her, to which she'd promptly replied.

 _Please don't. I am still suffering the effects of my punishment and do not wish to get out of bed or see anyone and even writing hurts because of the cuts on my hands but overall I am fine. Try not to worry. I love you. –NM_

He tried not to worry but worried anyway. She seemed distant. Her few subsequent replies were short and devoid of personality, though each ended with "I love you."

Few students stayed at Hogwarts over Easter holiday and the Dark Lord had been gone since the night Potter escaped, so Severus did not worry about leaving the school once he'd read Lucius' letter. Though the Carrows were his deputies, he left Minerva in charge.

"I have a family emergency," he'd said.

"I wasn't aware that you have family," she'd replied.

"They're like family," he'd said. She'd nodded. Then he'd hurried to his office for a few supplies, ignored Dilys' and Dumbledore's inquiries regarding his intended destination, and departed, the letter tucked safely in his pocket.

 _Severus,_

 _I know I shouldn't bother you and I know you are constantly reminding the Dark Lord that you are not a Healer, but I would greatly appreciate it if you could come to Malfoy Manor to help me with Narcissa. We were all punished by the Dark Lord earlier this evening, but she worst of all. Her hands were shredded by broken glass, which I suspect may also be embedded in her back, and it appears He beat her. Half her face is swollen. I don't know what else He might have done but I fear the worst. I gave her what little Essence of Murtlap we had though it won't be enough. Whatever assistance you can offer is appreciated. She won't talk to me. She won't let me help her. I'm worried._

 _Your friend,_

 _Lucius_

On the fourth day, Narcissa overslept, not that it could really be called oversleeping when one has no reason to get up at any set time. Or at all. She was still sleeping on her side, since glass remained in her back, and she'd only managed to suffer through one shower since the attack.

Lucius woke her by pounding on her bedroom door at quarter-past eleven.

"Narcissa? Unlock the door, please." He pounded on the door again. "Narcissa!"

"What?" she called, irritated. She wrenched herself out of bed and threw on her robe. She'd slept in a pink silk slip, one with spaghetti straps that hardly covered her growing chest and only went to her mid-thigh. Though her husband had obviously seen her in less, she didn't feel it would be appropriate for her to see her in so little clothing now. She wouldn't have slept in it at all, under usual circumstances, but the cuts on her back seemed to be getting worse rather than better, so the less material rubbing up against her skin the better.

It was a good thing she'd pulled on the robe, because when she opened the door, Lucius was not alone.

"Severus?" she whispered, going white.

"Narcissa," he said coolly, with a slight inclination of his head, as if there was nothing between them beyond polite acquaintanceship. "Lucius tells me you've been tortured by the Dark Lord and may be in need of some medical care?"

"I… Yes. I'm… in pain." She backed up a few paces. "Come in."

Both Severus and Lucius entered. Narcissa shut the door behind them, grateful that her husband had zero proficiency in Legilimency. She was too tired, too sore, and, frankly, a little too hungover to worry about clearing her mind.

"Perhaps you should go get dressed," Lucius said, nodding toward the bathroom.

"No," said Severus. "You said she has cuts on her back? If she's wearing a dress I'll have to cut it open to examine her."

"I don't need you to examine me!" she hissed, more harshly than she'd meant to. He cocked an eyebrow. She blushed. "I'm sorry."

"What are you wearing under that?" Severus gestured toward the robe, his tone completely casual.

"A… a slip. Not much of a slip. It hurts… to wear anything, it hurts."

"Does it hurt to lie down on your stomach?"

"No."

"Then remove the robe and do so here." He indicated the bed.

She darted an awkward glance at her husband, who misunderstood her discomfort and assured her it would be alright to let Severus see her back, that he'd need to see it if he could help her. She followed the instructions, discarding the robe on the floor and positioning herself on her stomach, with the bruised side of her face on the pillow, facing Severus. Using his wand and the same spell the Dark Lord had used, Diffindo, he cut the back of the straps of her slip, which allowed him to fold down the the silk material to her lower back.

"Lumos." He looked carefully over her skin, his brow furrowed. A tiny twitch in his clenched jaw was all that revealed his feelings over seeing her this way.

"Hand me a stone," he said to Lucius, reaching out his hand. "There's one in the vase."

Narcissa held her breath. He'd barely glanced around her room. Would Lucius wonder how he knew there was a vase with glass stones in it on her dresser? If her husband was suspicious, he did not let on. He merely retrieved a cool blue stone and handed it to Severus, who tapped it twice with his wand while muttering an unfamiliar incantation.

"There are shards of glass still embedded in your skin," he said, void of emotion. "Some very deeply. I'm going to use this to pull them out. It will work like a magnet – do you know what a magnet is?" (She nodded.) "The stone will attract the glass, forcing it to work its way out of your skin, which is necessary to avoid infection and ensure you heal properly, but it will hurt."

He began.

"Ouch!"

He was right. It _did_ hurt. It hurt as much coming out as it had going in!

"Ow! Ouch! Fuck! Seriously? How much more is there?"

"A lot," said Severus, his voice dry. "I've only done one shoulder blade." He did the other shoulder next and despite her desire to remain strong, she couldn't help starting to cry. He began moving the stone down her spine, not touching her skin. She could feel the glass wiggling its way out. Whenever the side of the stone facing her was covered in tiny slivers and shards, Severus dipped it into the water glass on her bedside table to clean it and started again.

"Ow! Please! Just leave it in there. I'll learn to live with it! Ouch!" She choked back a sob. Severus felt his stomach knot. He hated knowing he was causing her pain but knew it was absolutely necessary. Lucius didn't seem to be able to stand seeing her in pain either.

"Why don't I… go get us some tea? It's time for tea. Yes, tea." He seemed to be speaking to himself. "Tea is good. We'll all have tea. I'll be right back." He hurried out, closing the door behind him. They heard his footsteps echo down the corridor.

"He couldn't watch when I was being tortured either," said Narcissa. "The Dark Lord realized He could hurt all of us by hurting me and it worked."

"Did He rape you?" Severus asked indifferently, as if curious about what she'd eaten for dinner the night before. He continued to carefully remove the last of the glass.

"No. He was going to. I mean, I think He was going to. He… He touched my chest, and grabbed my thigh, and… and forced my skirt up almost to my waist… and cut open the front of my dress…" She shuddered with the memory of it. "But I told Him I wasn't afraid, that I wanted Him to just do it and get it over with, and that I'd been through worse. I used Occlumency to hide how scared I really was then when He invaded my mind I pushed forth my worst memory, figuring it was better than letting Him discover how I was really feeling in the moment."

"That's brilliant," said Severus, impressed. "He was sufficiently distracted then?"

"Yes. And when He realized I wasn't scared, He got angry, but He didn't do… what He was going to do. I imagine He figured it wasn't worth it. So He hit me, cursed Bella, and left."

"That was quick thinking. I'm proud of you." Severus brushed her hair aside and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. "I'm going to apply Essence of Dittany to your back, now." He poured some into his hands, rubbed them together, and then began massaging it into her skin. At first his touch caused her further pain, but quickly the Dittany did its job and relief commenced. His hands traveled lower and lower… one slipped under the fabric of her knickers, grabbing her arse…

"By some miracle there were no cuts _there_ ," she said, smiling for the first time in days.

"My mistake," he said with a smirk. He withdrew his hand as he kissed her non-injured cheek before helping her move to a seated position. She tied the cut straps of her slip around her neck so it would stay up in the front without having to be fixed in the back. He went into the loo to wash the Dittany off his hands then returned to begin the process again on either her knees or her palms, but she wanted to make the most of the few moments they'd have alone.

"I've missed you," she whispered, grabbing hold of his robes and pulling him into a kiss. Even though he knew he shouldn't, it was too risky, he reciprocated. He felt her lips part and slipped his tongue into her mouth as she let out a moan.

"Does this hurt?" he asked when they parted momentarily. "When I kiss you, does it hurt your lip?"

"Yes," she whispered. "But I don't want you to stop."

He brought his hand up to her cheeks, barely touching the bruised one, and guided her into another kiss as she reclined onto her already-healing back.

"Damn it," he swore, positioning his body over hers, with one hand propping him up and the other on her upper thigh, under her slip.

"What?"

"It was not my intention," he began, breaking halfway through his thought to kiss her again. "It was not my intention to fall in love with you."

"Nor was it mine." She brought her bandaged hands up, pushing back his hair, and cradled his face as he had hers. She initiated another kiss. "I need you, Severus. I desperately need you. I'm so bloody in love with you I can't stand it."

"I'm sorry," he said. Their lips and tongues met over and over again between words. "I'm sorry… I thought… you'd be safer… here… I never thought… He'd punish you… like this… I should have… protected you…"

"Don't be sorry… it's not your fault… You couldn't have stopped Him… He'd have killed you… He's merciless… He… He…" Severus moved his hand back down to her arse, grinding her against him as he kissed her, causing her to lose her train of thought. "He… er… Oh… oh, Severus… Yes… Take me!" She arched her back, pressing her chest against his, desiring so much more.

"I can't…!" He kissed her. "I want to…!" He kissed her again. "You must know I want to…" Another kiss. "But your husband will be back any moment."

"Who cares?" She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the effects of his budding arousal pressed against thigh as his hand moved to caress her breast. "Fuck him."

"He's not my type," joked Severus. He placed a tender kiss on her chest. "I prefer you."

"Ha! Aren't we funny today?" she teased. "Now shut up and make love with me."

"My Narcissa," he groaned, wanting her as badly as she did him, even though he knew they needed to stop before they went too far. She was fumbling with the top button of his vest, her fingers not working well on account of the bandages, while he made to slide his fingers between her legs, when they heard footsteps coming up the hall. Severus immediately got off of her, Summoned over the wooden chair from the small corner vanity, and retrieved the glass stone from the tiny table. Narcissa was seated on the edge of the bed with her slip up just over her knees, covering her upper body with her pillow, and struggling to control her breathing, when Lucius entered.

"More glass?" he asked. He was balancing three mugs of hot tea in his hands. He placed them atop the dresser, then handed one to Severus, who set it down on the bedside table beside the water glass.

"Yes," Severus answered, using the blue stone to pull it from her kneecaps, making her yelp. After he'd finished, he unwrapped her hands and tended to them, making sure to apply Essence of Dittany to both when done.

Once he'd completed that task, he took from his pocket a tub of the same salve he'd given Bellatrix back in December for her bruises. Though he was aware that Narcissa could do it herself, he carefully applied liberal amount to the swollen purple skin under her eye, then touched the barest amount to her upper eyelid, afraid to accidentally get it in her eye. The pink and purple speckled bruises across her cheek benefited from the salve too, as did the puffy skin around her lips. He dripped Essence of Dittany directly on her sore lower lip. They made accidental eye contact during this and clear as though she'd said it out loud, he heard her voice in his head: "I love you. Stupidly."

Almost imperceptibly, he nodded, wishing he could say it back. (Stupidly.)

A knock on the door made them all jump, Lucius so much so that he dribbled the last of his tea down his front, which he Vanished. Narcissa looked to him in surprise.

"You have a wand now?"

"Yes. From a Snatcher. Your sister killed them all so we each took one, since Potter got ours. Draco, too."

"Oh."

The person at the door knocked again.

"Mother?"

"Come in, Draco," said Lucius. Narcissa's eyes widened. What would her son think of her, half-dressed, sitting on her bed across from Snape?

"Wait, Draco!" she called. "Hand me my robe, Lucius."

He did. She put it on.

"Come in, Draco," said Lucius for a second time. The door opened. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but, seeing Severus, closed it, narrowing his eyes.

"What is it?" asked Lucius. The boy didn't respond. "Draco? What do you need?"

"The Dark Lord," Draco choked out, still staring at his mother and his formerly favorite professor. He cleared his throat. "What are you doing?"

"Severus is helping your mother. There's glass in her… She… I don't have any skills related to healing and neither does your aunt, so we called upon Severus."

"Oh."

"What did the Dark Lord want?" asked Narcissa in a fearful whisper.

"He wants Father to go our and procure a number of things for Him, He said. He can't send Bellatrix because He's not letting her leave the Manor anymore, and He can't send Uncle Rodolphus or Rabastan because they're already out. I offered, but…"

"But what, son?"

"But He said I'm as useless as my mother thus He'd rather send someone who knows better than to fail Him again."

"Where is He?" asked Lucius, the color draining from His face.

"The drawing room. He was torturing Rookwood down there. Not sure why."

"I should go." Lucius looked painstakingly at Narcissa. "Are you alright if I…?"

"Yes. Don't keep Him waiting."

"I'll stay with you, Mother," Draco offered, but he was glaring at Severus as he spoke.

"Not necessary," she insisted. "He's going to be applying this healing salve to my back and frankly, darling, I don't want you to see."

"Come along, Draco," said Lucius, leading him from the room. "Don't worry about your mother. She's in good hands with Professor Snape."

"Is she?" asked Draco, glancing back. Severus let him make eye contact, using Occlumency to ensure the boy was completely blocked out, while keeping his expression one of casual disinterest.

"He doesn't trust me," said Severus once their footsteps had echoed away. Narcissa waved her wand, locking the door, and cast Muffliato.

"Should he trust you? You're fucking his mother."

Severus grinned wickedly, in spite of himself. "Not at the moment, but I'd like to be."

"You're the worst. I feel better already. Come here."

He climbed into bed with her, kissing her face and neck and chest, divesting her of the robe, and reminding her how much he'd missed her since they were last together. They made love quickly and gently and without fully undressing, aware that they might be interrupted at any moment. Afterward he sprawled out on his back on the outside edge of the bed. She cuddled up next to him, content in his embrace.

"What was the memory?"

"Excuse me?"

He twisted his body slightly to better face her. "What was the memory you showed the Dark Lord. Was it one I've already seen?"

"Oh, that. No, it wasn't. It was… it was one I'd rather you not see."

"Will you show me what happened with Him?"

Her eyes flashed. "You think I'm lying when I tell you He didn't violate me? Lucius thinks I'm lying but I didn't imagine you–"

"I don't think you're lying," he interjected. "I think you must have been exceptionally brave and, as I said before, I am proud of you for using what you've learned in Occlumency to block and distract Him. You have been a much better student than Potter was."

"I'm a better looking student, too."

"Well, that's a given. Will you show me?"

"Alright," she agreed, though she didn't really want to relive it. They sat up facing each other. As she readied herself for the intrusion into her memories she absentmindedly traced over the scars on her palms that had been caused by the glass.

He readied his wand. "Legilimens."

He saw Draco unable to identify Potter.

He saw Lucius recognizing the Weasley boy.

He saw Bellatrix carving Mudblood into the arm of Hermione Granger.

He saw the goblin.

He saw the Malfoy's ex house-elf.

He saw the chandelier fall.

He saw the prisoners escape.

He saw the Dark Lord arrive.

At this, Narcissa began to breathe more heavily, jaggedly. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused with tears in the corners. If she was this frightened by the mere memory of it, he couldn't imagine how she'd managed through the real thing.

But she did.

He watched as the Dark Lord hit them each with the Cruciatus. As He selected Narcissa to come forward. As He forced her to her knees in the broken glass.

His own breath hitched with horror when He saw the Dark Lord climb on top of her, cut open her dress, touch her…

He saw the Dark Lord's face as she insisted she was unafraid.

And now, he could see the memory that she'd shown Him. And though Severus knew he should stop now, he should pull back, let her keep this private, insatiable curiosity got the better of him as he delved in further. She was little. She was crying. She'd wet the bed… Bellatrix shrieked… their mother entered the room…

"No!" cried Narcissa. For the first time, she didn't simply push him out of her memories, she forced her way, quite accidentally, into his.

 _He was in in Dumbledore's office, arguing with the old man about a cursed ring._

Narcissa was confused – when was this? – then Dumbledore's next words caught her attention:

 _"_ _I refer to the plan Lord Voldemort is revolving around me. His plan is to have the poor Malfoy boy kill me."_

 _Severus sat down in the chair opposite Dumbledore, who was seated at his desk. Even though it was only a memory, and even though she was already sitting on her bed, Narcissa almost felt the urge to sit too._

 _"_ _The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to succeed," said Severus, scowling. "This is merely punishment for Lucius's recent failings. Slow torture for Draco's parents, while they watch him fail and pay the price."_

Narcissa's stomach churned as she realized she'd been awake for nearly two hours now and hadn't yet thrown up.

 _"_ _In short, the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have," said Dumbledore. "Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?"_

 _"_ _That is, I think, the Dark Lord's plan."_

Narcissa was trapped in Severus' head, both unable to leave this dismal memory and unwilling to try. Did Severus tell Dumbledore what he'd promised her?

 _Dumbledore was still speaking._

 _"_ _I have your word that you will do all in your power to protect the students of Hogwarts?"_

 _Severus gave a stuff nod._

And the memory shifted, fading, giving way to another. She heard Dumbledore telling Severus there will come a time when Voldemort will fear for his snake, Nagini. She heard Dumbledore telling Severus that the killing curse rebounded on the Dark Lord the night He killed Lily and tried to kill Harry Potter. She heard Dumbledore telling Severus that the boy must die.

 _"_ _I thought… all these years… that we were protecting him for her," said Severus, aghast. "For Lily… You have kept him alive so he can die at the right moment?"_

 _"_ _Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?"_

 _"_ _Lately, only those whom I could not save."_

She watched as Severus accused Dumbledore of using him and lying to him.

 _"_ _But this is touching," said Dumbledore. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"_

 _"_ _For him?" shouted Severus. "Expecto Patronum!"_

 _From his wand burst a silver doe Patronus, which bounded around the room and soared out the window. Dumbledore watched the silvery figure fly away._

But Narcissa's focus was on Severus. His eyes were brimming with tears.

 _"_ _After all this time?" asked Dumbledore._

 _"_ _Always," replied Severus._

Narcissa burst into tears.

"What? What happened?" Severus placed his hands on her upper arms, studying her face. "What did you see?"

"You love her," said Narcissa, choking back a sob. "You'll always love her! You told Dumbledore so."

"I… You saw…?"

"Your Patronus, it's a deer?"

"A doe."

"Why? Why is it a doe?"

"Well, because… I don't know, what's yours?" he deflected.

"I can't form one. Not a corporeal one. Mine's just silvery nothingness that doesn't do a whole lot of good!" She began to ramble. "You've been protecting her son and now he's going to die as you protected my son who the Dark Lord wanted to die but you can't protect the boy forever just as I can't protect my little boy and the fact is, Dumbledore used you and his hand was all black and there was a cursed ring and he wanted you to kill him and the fact is I can't even make a proper Patronus but yours is for her and you believe Dumbledore was lying and wants you to send the boy to slaughter and the fact is you love her, you've always loved her, and you'll always love her, always!" She took a quick break to breathe while he tried to make sense of what she'd just said. "For fuck's sake, Severus, I can't compete with a ghost! Or a memory!"

"Try to calm down," said Severus, piecing together the memories she must have seen, the memories he'd always been careful to remove from his head and place in the Penseive before doing Occlumency lessons with Potter. "Breathe in and out slowly."

Narcissa breathed in and out slowly, but it didn't help. The contents of her stomach swirled (not that there could be much in there – she'd had nothing wine and crackers for dinner the night before). She lept up from the bed and rushed to the loo, making it just in time to get sick in the toilet instead of on the floor. He followed her in and held her hair, rubbing her healing back in slow circles with his free hand. When she'd finished retching, she flushed it away and brushed her teeth, tears still stinging her eyes. He stood up, looking at her quizzically. When she was through rinsing her mouth, he slipped an arm around her waist from behind, placing his hand on her abdomen, making eye contact in the mirror.

"How far along are you?" He was playing a hunch.

She closed her eyes, unable to look at him, but she relaxed into his embrace.

"Four to six weeks, I think. I'm not sure. It was either… either my birthday, or the night Nova was born. You remember, the night we… we said we'd be careful, but we weren't careful."

"I remember. So it's mine?"

She sighed. "Unquestionably."

"You noticed, I assume, that Dumbledore was alive in those memories?"

"I noticed." She opened her eyes and met his in the mirror.

"That was nearly a year ago, Narcissa. You and I weren't even speaking at the time. It was a few days after… after our row, in my office, the day Draco was attacked by Potter."

"The day I insulted the boy's eyes."

"Yes."

"You were angry with me."

"Yes."

"Because you loved her?"

"Yes."

"Do you still?"

"Do you love Lucius?"

"Stop it. You can't answer my questions with questions."

He let out a slow breath then turned her around so they were facing each other, and again wrapped his arms around her waist, so she threw her arms around him, her hands clasped together on the back of his neck, under his hair. "My Patronus is a doe because her Patronus was a doe. And yes, when I told Dumbledore I'd always love her, I meant it. But that doesn't change how I…" He scowled, furious with himself, but a moment later his expression softened. "I've never lied to you, Narcissa. Not once. I have kept secrets – it's safer for you _not to know_ what you now know – but I've never lied to you and I would never lie to you, especially about… especially about loving you."

"I'm stupidly in love with you," she whispered, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

"It's mutual," he assured her. "Perhaps if things were different…?"

"Meaning?"

"I fear what the Dark Lord did to you three days ago is nothing compared to what He would do to you if He were to discover my… loyalties… and know that we're… together," he said, not actually answering her. "Now it's my turn to ask a question."

"Alright."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"About the baby?"

"Yes."

"I didn't know how." Her grey eyes, still watery from her tears, met his, which were dark and kind and full of concern. "It's not like last time, darling. Last time, I didn't know… Last time… My husband was in prison, my son was marked for death, I wasn't even sure who… Last time… but this time, I… I began to suspect, only… At first I wasn't sure... then I didn't know what to say."

"It's fine. I know now and that's what matters. I'll take care of it."

Her heart skipped. By 'take care of it,' could he mean…? Perhaps they would…?

But no.

"I'll start brewing that potion tonight and have it ready for you in two weeks."

Her heart thudded into her gut. She stepped back, disentangling herself from his arms.

"Very well," she said. She returned to the bedroom and crawled under the covers, facing away from him.

"Shit," he said, as the realization hit. "You want to keep it. Narcissa? You want to keep it?"

"It's yours," she said softly. "Yours and mine. Ours. I can handle a baby. I'm not a bad mother."

"No!" He crawled onto the bed, slipped under the covers, and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You're a fine mother. It's just that we've been risking far too much for far too long and we never should have let this happen. I mean it when I tell you I love you, Narcissa – and yes, I still love Lily, I won't deny that – but I'm in love with you and I want to be with you and if the world were a different place… and perhaps it will be, someday. But it's my fault Lily was murdered… Remember that night in the attic, when you said I was feeling guilty as if I were cheating on her, and I said you weren't quite right?"

"I remember."

"I don't feel that I'm cheating on her romantically. I feel that I cheated her out of all she should have had. Work. Birthdays. Christmases. Bringing up her son. I got her killed, it was my fault, so how can I go on to have what she was denied?"

"It wasn't your fault, Severus. When the Dark Lord decides to kill a person, He kills that person. There was nothing you could have done once He decided to kill them."

"But don't you see, Narcissa? He never would have marked them for death if it hadn't been for me! So you see, you have to take the potion. He cannot know about us."

"You want me to have an abortion so the Dark Lord can't murder our child?"

"I won't force you." He kissed her bruised cheek. "And I do love you. But I implore you – think about this. You had a plan, didn't you? Not two months ago you told me you wanted to get divorced, to date, to become engaged, to get married, to live together, all before even thinking about another baby."

"Yes, I said that."

"So what happened?"

"You got me pregnant; that's what happened."

"I shouldn't have."

"But you did."

"But I shouldn't have."

She rolled over onto her back, which still stung (though not nearly as bad as it had before the glass removal and Dittany) and took his hand, placing it on her lower abdomen.

"But you did. Your baby is growing inside me, Severus. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

His mind flashed back to the night Nova was born, to cutting the cord, to seeing Narcissa cradle the infant before handing her over to her mother. He remembered how badly he'd wished, in that moment, to have helped deliver his own baby, how badly he longed for a family… how he'd left Hogwarts a few hours later and returned to Malfoy Manor with the senseless, selfish intention of getting his closest friend's wife pregnant.

"It means something to me," he said quietly.

"If you want me to take that potion, I'll take it," she said, just as quietly.

"I won't force you," he reiterated. "I'll brew it and you can think it over."

With her head and hand on his chest and his arms comfortingly around her, they held each other in silence for nearly an hour before he worried that he'd stayed far too long to avoid arousing suspicion. He kissed her several times before departing with a final, "I love you." He was nearly to the front door when Draco's voice called to him from the kitchen.

"That took a long time, Professor."

Severus paused, sighed, and entered the kitchen to face his former pupil, who was sipping tea at the table, a plate of biscuits beside him.

"There is nothing inappropriate going on between me and your mother," said Severus, ever the convincing liar. He reached into his pocket for the letter from Lucius and held it out toward Draco. "I am here today only because you're father wrote me, begging me to come."

Draco dipped a biscuit in his tea, not taking the letter.

"I thought the Dark Lord might kill her," he said after a moment's silence. The cookie dissolved into the tea. "I don't know what He did to her. I couldn't watch."

"He hit her." Severus pulled out a chair and sat across from the boy. "She's still in pain primarily because of the glass from the floor, not because… not because of anything else. It will take time, but she will fully recover. Do not worry."

"She's my mother," said Draco, forcing himself to look at Severus. "I don't want to see her get hurt, you know?"

Severus had no idea how to respond to that. Thankfully, he didn't have to.

"You're still here?" Lucius entered the kitchen carrying a leather drawstring pouch, which he placed on the table. "For the Dark Lord," he explained. "How is Narcissa?"

Severus rose, pushing away from his mind the sight of her in bed, when she placed his hand over her midsection. Then he thought about the potion he'd have to begin brewing straight away, in order to have it ready before she was too far along to take it.

"Your wife is suffering residual effects from the Curse and still has cuts from the glass, nor to mention the bruising, but I've given her the salve and the Essence of Dittany, plus I'm going to be brewing her another potion, thus she'll be fine in a couple of weeks," he said.

"Thank you." Lucius held out his hand. Severus shook it. "I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything," insisted Severus. "It was a favor for a friend. Think nothing of it. Now I must be going. I can't abandon Hogwarts for too long or I'll be the one facing the Dark Lord's wrath."

Lucius thanked him again, then both he and Draco said goodbye.

A few days later, on the last day of the Easter holiday break, Narcissa and Draco ate a house elf prepared lunch alone together in her bedroom, at a little table she transfigured from one of her dresser drawers. He still had a bit of difficulty looking at her on account of her battered face, much like he'd not been able to look directly at his aunt when she was in the same (well, worse) condition a few months before. Narcissa had tried covering the effects with makeup but it was futile. Though both were struggling with the fact that he'd be heading back to Hogwarts in the morning, they tried to keep the subject light.

"Remember my fifth birthday?" asked Draco, swirling butter into his potatoes. "You and Father threw that huge, fancy party?"

Narcissa smiled. "Of course I remember! I wore a silver gown and had that nice little dress shop make for you a matching button down vest and bow tie. All you wanted for a gift that year was a walking stick like your father's, so he had one commissioned in your size, with a little serpent's head and a toy wand inside. You followed him around all evening copying his mannerism, echoing his opinions, and pulling out your wand, with your little chest puffed out and your chin up. You were the most adorable little man Malfoy Manor has ever seen. Vincent Crabbe and Theodore Nott were there – he went by Theo then – and little Millie Bulstrode, she had such a crush on you. It was adorable."

"First off, she was never little," scoffed Draco. "Secondly, she told everyone I planned to _marry_ her, which was _not_ adorable!"

Narcissa laughed.

"The most adorable part was when Millie's mother asked why you wouldn't marry her daughter, and I was so afraid you were going to say something awful about her appearance and embarrass your father and me, but you said, 'I can't marry Millie because I'm going to marry the prettiest lady in the whole world, my mummy.'"

"Moth-ther!" Draco rolled his eyes. "I was a prat. Don't remind me."

"You were not a prat, you were sweet! All the women awwwed over you and the men…" Narcissa couldn't help smirking, recalling how good she'd looked that night. "Well, I certainly felt like the prettiest lady in the whole world in that moment."

"The part I remember best is getting that cake that was bigger than me. Father had to hoist me up to blow out the candles. Then Crabbe swiped some frosting and got in trouble with his mother because he was supposed to be on a diet. Afterward all us kids took our toy brooms to the courtyard and Father bewitched a few balls so we could play Quidditch."

"Those were happier times," said Narcissa, with a sense of longing and nostalgia.

"It'll be that way again," Draco insisted.

"Oh? You'll play Quidditch in the courtyard on toy brooms after telling your friends you want to marry me?" Narcissa teased.

"Well… no. But perhaps someday I'll get married – maybe I'll even marry Astoria – and we'll have a son and _he'll_ want to marry you, how's that?"

"I suppose that'll do."

They chuckled.

"Honestly, I think I'm all set as far as getting married goes," she said, though she couldn't help envisioning herself taking the marriage vow with Severus someday. "But I do hope you'll get married and have children and be happy, even if it's not to Astoria."

He opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but she held up a hand.

"I have nothing against her, but you're seventeen, darling. Don't plan your whole life out when you're seventeen. Don't get married young. And for the love of all things magic, don't go getting yourself stuck in a marriage you can't escape. Live a little first."

"Do you regret getting married young, then, Mother?"

"I was pregnant, Draco," she said, having made a split-second decision to come clean about this. "Your father only married me because we were having a baby. He felt like he _had_ to marry me. I don't want that for you."

He seemed moderately surprised. "What happened to the baby, then? Do I have an older sibling?"

"A miscarriage," she answered. "Don't misunderstand, your father and I loved each other very much, and we would've gotten married eventually... probably... but we were young and we… we had to rush into something that… that could have waited. I had to drop out of school. I shouldn't have. Seventeen is young. You're young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You... Draco?" She caught sight of his face, which was anxious and crumbling. "What's wrong, darling?"

"Mother? Don't be angry, please…" whispered Draco, leaning forward over the table. He chewed his lip, the same way she always did. "Please don't be cross when I tell you this... but I knew it was Potter. I knew it straight away."

She reached out, taking his hand, and held it between both of hers. He looked to her with an expression of guilt and despair. She kissed his hand.

"I know, Love. I know."

* * *

 **A/N:** If anyone wants to know what happened between Bellatrix and Voldemort after He disapparated and she went to kill the Snatchers, check out the first chapter of Dying for the Dark Lord, starting halfway down and continuing through the end of that chapter. Completely unrelated, for some reason this chapter appears completely bold on my phone but completely normal on the computer. Not sure what's up with that, but if it's all in bold for you, I'm sorry. I can't control it. It's bizarre. Anyway... Thanks for reading! **–** **AL**

 **Review Responses:**

 **Harry Hobbit** – That scene with the Dark Lord walking through blood is actually from after the Gringotts break-in. I wasn't planning to use it because it doesn't fit with the slightly altered timeline I created in Dying for the Dark Lord, but after rewatching the scene I might have to do some tweaking because it IS a strong moment for all of them. Thanks for reminding me of it! I'm working on figuring out a Bella/Snape moment for you ;)

 **EmoEmpire** – Thanks! I love that! I'm so glad you discovered my fic.

 **Guest** – I'm excited you thought it read like real sisters! I have one brother and three stepbrothers but I always wanted a sister… fights and all. I can't imagine growing up with four!

 **Annika** – Sorry to make you cry but thanks for reading and reviewing!

 **Karli1252** – In my original draft they never ended up saying it but I just couldn't bring myself to end it that way so I'm glad it made you happy! :)

 **Malfoy-McGonagall** – Thank you! I wish they were canon too! I fell into this ship by accident but now I can't find my way out. lol

 **Firetemplar415** , **PopularCats** , & **Elphaba8385** – Thanks for continuing to read  & review!


	44. April 28, 1998

**Chapter Forty-four – April 28** **th** **, 1998**

For about a week and a half, Narcissa and Severus could only communicate by writing in the book, as she had no opportunities to leave Malfoy Manor (despite new appararition wards that technically allowed her to do so) and Severus was stuck at Hogwarts.

Then, not long after dawn on the morning of Tuesday, April 28th, he was Summoned.

He walked across the grounds of Malfoy Manor, shooing away an albino peacock, and up to the door. He knocked twice, hoping Narcissa would answer. She did not.

"You came! Good," hissed Bellatrix, glancing around to ensure they were not being overheard. Thankfully, everyone else in the Manor was probably still sleeping.

"Quick, in here." She pulled him into the infrequently used Drawing Room, which had been closed off entirely since the incident. The glass was gone from the floor but the chandelier had not been repaired.

"I've been Summoned," he said. "Where's the Dark Lord."

"He's not here. I Summoned you."

Severus cocked his head. "You can do that?"

"I can do a lot of things people don't realize I can do, Snape." She stepped closer to him, trapping him between her body and the wall behind him. With one hand she yanked on the leather tie holding closed the top of her corset, letting the material fall open, exposing the top half of her chest, which, thanks to a combination of junk food and breastfeeding, was much larger than it had been when he'd last thrown herself at him. (Back then, she was still emaciated from her fourteen years in Azkaban.) Severus couldn't help looking her over, though he wondered what she was playing at. She waved her hand and the door slammed closed. He knew without checking that it was locked. Her dark, heavy-lidded eyes sized him up.

"I do a lot of things well." She waved her hand again and the curtains fell shut across every window, blocking out the midday sun.

"Let's skip the theatrics, Bellatrix. What is your end game?"

"The Dark Lord has taken my wand and rescinded my right to leave the Manor for any reason as punishment for…" Her eyes darted toward the center of the room, where the chandelier had fallen. She slid her hand up his arm and squeezed his bicep. "Well. I'm sure you heard."

"I did."

"I need a wand, Severus." She ran her hands up and down his arms, from his shoulders to his wrists. "I need Polyjuice potion. And Veritaserum. And…" She broke eye contact momentarily. "And birth control potion."

He raised an eyebrow, choosing to ignore the fact that she had now moved so close to him their chests were touching. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I believe you can help me."

"Why should I help you?"

Her right hand traveled from his bicep to his waist. She pressed her pelvis to his. "I can make it worth your while."

"I doubt it," he replied, emotionless.

"Whatever you want…" Now her other hand traveled to his front, between them, from the center of his chest… and down. She brushed her fingers lightly against his groin.

"Come on, Snape. You know as well as I do that I'm the best you've ever had. You could have me again – or I could… I could provide a service for you. Multiple services. Perhaps one for each potion. Or once now and once upon delivery. You tell me what you want and I'll do it."

"You're using sex to appeal to me?"

"Is it working?"

"No."

She frowned at him, eyes narrowed, then, deciding she'd keep trying anyway, she lowered her voice seductively and brushed her fingers against him again, with more pressure this time. She puffed her lips out into a pout. "I need those potions, Snape. I need a wand. I need your help. I need _you_."

"Wouldn't giving you a wand be in direct defiance of the Dark Lord's wishes?"

"Okay, no wand then." Removing one hand from his waist (keeping the other where it shouldn't be) she swept aside his hair, brushed her lips against his neck, and whispered, "But the potions, Severus. Polyjuice, Veritaserum, and birth control. You can help me, can't you?" Still lightly rubbing him with her right hand, she used her left to unfasten the clasp of his robe, then scratched lightly at the skin of the back of his neck, below his hairline. She flicked her tongue against the bottom of his earlobe. "The Dark Lord never has to know."

He kept his breathing steady, using Occlumency to keep her out of his head, and did his best to ignore her ministrations, knowing acting as though she wasn't touching him would be a more effective deterrent than attempting to escape her advances – though he would need a Step Two soon.

"I have neither the time nor the desire to assist you, Mrs. Lestrange," he said, aware that use of her married name would annoy her. He was right. Her eyes flashed and she withdrew her hand. But she quickly calmed herself, took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and wrapped both of her arms around his neck, rubbing his chest with hers.

"I'll do anything, Severus. What do you want?"

"I want to return to Hogwarts before the Dark Lord discovers I've gone."

"You must want more than that." Her hands moved back to his waist. She undid the button of his trousers, not breaking eye contact. He shifted uncomfortably. "Tell me what you need."

It was getting increasingly difficult to ignore her – though the notion that Narcissa might walk in and catch them was a good way to curb any accidental arousal.

"Come on, Severus Snape," she murmured. She placed a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. Fuck. He needed to get out of here. "I have needs and you have needs and if you provide me with mine, I'll fulfill yours."

"You can stop," he said, his voice dry and stoic. "I'm not interested. You're wasting your time."

"Nonsense," she said. "We both know you're interested." She touched him through his undershorts and despite his brain's disgust over the thought of being with her, his cock twitched.

"See? Come on, Headmaster," she spoke slowly, hissing his title. "Let me make it worthy of your time. I need three potions. You can provide them. You don't even have to return to give them to me; you can send them by owl. In exchange, I'll render your payment now. I could use my mouth on you. I'll get you off. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You've liked it before. Or you can fuck me. You can do it right here. Now. However you want; whatever you want. I won't say no."

"Does the Dark Lord know that the mother of His only heir is willing to trade sex for goods?" asked Severus, wishing he could back away. "Does He know His little pet is offering one of His minions a blow job in exchange for potions He must not want her to have, or He'd provide them Himself? What would He think if He walked in here now and saw you touching me? What would He do if He walked in to find me fucking you?"

This made her pause. She bit her lip, something he'd never seen her do before, and in the moment it reminded him very much of her sister.

"If you won't give me Polyjuice or Veritaserum, at least brew the birth control potion for me. Narcissa..." The truth was, she wanted to use the Veritaserum on Narcissa, but she couldn't tell _him_ that - he might tell Lucius. "Cissy doesn't have the ingredients for the birth control and I need it. I'm desperate. I can't get pregnant right now. You can help me. You're _the only one_ who can help me." She began rubbing him again, more vigorously this time, and pouted. "Won't you help me?"

"Why should I help you?" he asked, fighting back a groan and mentally cursing himself for growing hard. He needed her to stop, but he also did not want to give her the upper hand by letting her know that she'd gotten to him. As if playing chess, he looked ahead to his next move, by making a statement he knew would rile her. "If you don't want to get pregnant, close your legs, you shameless slag."

"It's not that simple!" she screeched, ceasing her movements, giving him a moment to breathe. He recognized the panic in her eyes. He smirked.

"Oh? Is the Dark Lord is interested in you again? How… nice."

"Don't make me beg," she said, dropping her voice again as she slid her hand under his shorts, against his skin, taking his length in her hand. His breath hitched in his throat as she began to stroke him. This was too much. He couldn't fight the undesired arousal. He had to do something… she'd already gone too far.

He grabbed her wrist, yanked it out of his shorts, and twisted her body, reversing their positions so that she was now the one with her back to the wall. He gripped both of her wrists tightly, pinning her hands above her head. Her eyes widened fearfully, but whether it was because of his sudden decision to take charge or because she was now scared he wouldn't brew what she needed, he wasn't sure.

"I will brew the birth control potion for you," he said. "But only because I see no reason to risk giving you and the Dark Lord a second child to potentially endanger. I will send it to you via owl. The Veritaserum and Polyjuice you shall have to procure on your own. Perhaps your husband will pick up the ingredients if you offer to fuck him, then Narcissa can brew it."

"Thank you." Bellatrix let out an unintentional sigh of relief, though she certainly would _not_ be making any such offer to her husband. "What must I do for you in return?"

"Nothing," he said, releasing her. He stepped back, fixed his trousers and robe, and glared at her. "But don't _ever_ fucking touch me again, or I'll go straight to the Dark Lord and invite Him to view this memory. Understand?"

She sulked, jutting out her lower lip. "You hate me, don't you, Snape?"

"Is it not mutual?"

"It is. But why? Aside from graciously transitioning you from boyhood to manhood, what have I done?"

"You mean aside from getting me drunk and molesting me until I consented to losing my virginity to you on the Dark Lord's orders?" he asked.

She nodded without a hint of irony, as if his version of that evening and hers were the same. "Yes, Snape. Aside from that."

"You are blind in your devotion," said Severus, knowing full well it might be a mistake to tell her this, that anything he were to say could – and probably would – make its way back to the Dark Lord. "You let Him treat you as no man should ever treat a woman and you love Him for it. You are not only willing to be abused and degraded and whored out by Him, you relish it, believing it makes you special. You are _not_ special. I only hope you do not raise your daughter to accept the same maltreatment and exploitation in whatever fucked up relationship she should find herself in someday. I'd hate to have to sew her back together as I have you."

Bellatrix paled. "My daughter… it's not the same."

"I certainly hope not. I also hope she grows up to learn that there are ways to get what she wants without screwing her way to success."

"I don't believe you're loyal to the Dark Lord," Bellatrix replied quietly, worried he could sense the hurt caused by his comments about Nova.

He rolled his eyes. Disloyalty was an old accusation, one she'd been lobbing at Him since shortly after He joined the Death Eaters, long before he betrayed the Dark Lord to Dumbledore, but this time she said it without vitriol.

"It doesn't matter what you believe, Bellatrix. I care even less about what you think of me than you care about what I think of you."

"I care about what you think," she said even more softly, with a touch of vulnerability that didn't suit her and somehow made the situation seem more intimate than it had moments before, when she was halfway to getting him off. She placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. He covered it with his own and moved their hands down to the space between them, but did not let go. The way she was looking at him now – fearful, as if she wanted him to save her – was considerably more uncomfortable for him than any other interaction with her could be. Still, he regarded her dispassionately.

"I'll brew the birth control potion and send it to you as soon as it's ready. In the interim I can get a couple of doses from Hogwarts' hospital wing to… tide you over." He released her hand. "Expect my owl in a couple of days."

"And what shall I provide you in return?"

"I told you, Bellatrix. Nothing."

"Nothing? I don't believe you. No one gets anything for nothing."

He exhaled slowly. "Consider it a gift. Your birthday's coming up, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"Happy birthday, then. Don't ask me for anything else."

"Very well…" Bellatrix said, mentally questioning how he knew her birthday. "Thank you."

She walked him out, which annoyed him as it meant he'd gone all the way there without even the chance of calling upon Narcissa. He returned to Hogwarts, hurried to his office, and took a cold shower. He loathed Bellatrix, but he also pitied her. And he wondered what she'd say when she eventually learned of his relationship with her sister. Not that he cared about her opinion. Not at all.

But he wondered.

Later that day, Narcissa was again minding the baby so Bellatrix could nap. She fed Nova a bottle, gave her a bath, dressed her, kissed her little forehead and tummy, and held her in the rocker, thinking about how it would feel to do this again in approximately eight months with her own baby… should she choose to go through with the pregnancy. Though she knew Severus' fears were valid and tried to convince herself she should take the potion because having a baby with him would be safer if they waited until the end of the war (it couldn't possibly last forever, right?) she loved the idea of raising her daughter and niece together.

"I know you're going to be a girl," she whispered, not to the sleeping baby in her arms but to the one forming inside her. "I just _know_. I feel it."

Of course, she'd been reasonably certain Draco would be a girl, too, and been as wrong as could be, though she tried not to dwell on that.

Bellatrix returned a short time later, but instead of taking the baby, she placed her in the crib. "If we hold her all the time, she'll want to be held all the time," she explained. "Let's go grab a late lunch. I haven't eaten. Have you?"

"No," said Narcissa. She snapped her fingers and Squeakers appeared. "Keep an eye on the baby. Should she wake, alert us. We will be in the kitchen."

"Yes, Madam Malfoy, Mistress, ma'am," said the tiny house elf. "As you wish."

Narcissa made them BLTs and chips for lunch while Bellatrix poured them each a glass of pumpkin juice.

"It's maddening to be without a wand," she said. "The Dark Lord let Lucius and Draco keep the Snatchers' wands I gave them, but He took mine away. He said I'd proven myself unworthy of it. It's not fair. Why should I be punished more harshly than your husband? Sometimes…" Her gaze darted around the kitchen, as if He might be hiding there somewhere. "Sometimes I'm so bloody cross with the Dark Lord I can't stand it."

"I'm sorry you're without a wand," said Narcissa, though in truth she was mostly relieved because with Lucius again having his own, he no longer asked to borrow hers.

They were halfway through their sandwiches when Narcissa brought up that awful row they'd had before Easter.

"Bella, why did you say Father didn't think I was his?"

"Oh, Cissy, it's nothing. You don't want to know."

"But I do want to know, Bella. That's why I asked. You wouldn't have said it if it didn't come from somewhere."

Bellatrix sighed, put down the bacon she'd just picked off her sandwich, and made eye contact with her sister. "Fine. But after I tell you, you'll likely wish I hadn't."

"Tell me anyway."

"I remember Father and Mother fighting a lot when I was small. Over everything. It started shortly before she got pregnant with you and always seemed to be about little things, until one night that had a screaming match so epic it woke me up and left me shaking."

"Over what?"

"Mother came home late. Father accused her of having an affair. I didn't know what an affair was, but he was more furious than I'd ever heard him. He threw around words… words I'd never heard before, but they were ugly. And she threw equally horrible words right back. But inevitably she admitted it; she said she'd been shagging a friend of his, which made him even angrier. I remember him shouting, 'But he's my friend, Druella! How could you sleep with my friend?' In my naïvete, I didn't understand what the big deal was. I slept with Andromeda sometimes, Father never seemed angry about that. Eventually I learned 'sleeping' didn't mean sleeping, of course."

"It made him angrier knowing she was sleeping with his friend?" Narcissa tried to ask this casually, pushing any thoughts of Lucius and Severus and their fragile friendship out of her head.

"Yes. Shortly thereafter, Mother told us she was expecting another baby. This didn't mean anything to me then. I mean, it meant something to me that there would be another baby around, but I didn't understand why this news made Father so dreadfully unhappy."

"He was still angry?"

"No. He was sad. It broke him. But he soldiered on. Then you were born and… and as you got bigger, you were so fair, so unlike Andromeda and me. Blonde hair, gray eyes…"

"They're Mother's eyes."

"Yes, but Mother had dark hair, like us. And your personality was different, too. Andromeda and I, we were very much alike. Very much like Sirius and Regulus, like Father and Uncle Orion. Confident, arrogant, determined, rebellious. Very… _Black_. You? Not so much. So Father became more and more convinced you weren't his, and though he loved you – I truly believe he loved you – it destroyed him. When he got sick, he… he just gave up. I was about seven then. He didn't even try to get better. He didn't even try! And then he died. That's when Mother discovered what he'd done with the money, with all the Black family money."

"What did he do?" asked Narcissa, too numb to react to this.

"He took all of his family's money before he passed and put it into trusts at Gringotts, split between us, with explicit instructions that Mother not be able to access any of it for any reason. He decreed that a portion be used for our education and that we each not see a penny of the rest until we were married. This meant Mother could no longer live the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. Andromeda's money was sent to her after she married the Muggle-born. I suppose Father couldn't have anticipated such treason, so he made no stipulation against it. She sent me a letter shortly thereafter, letting me know that she'd donated every cent to a fund that helps Muggleborns afford Hogwarts tuition. That spiteful bitch. Then I got mine after I married Rodolphus."

"What of mine?" asked Narcissa, chilled. She no longer had an appetite. "I didn't receive any money."

"No, you didn't."

"Why not? Bella?"

"He… he didn't leave you any."

"Because he… he didn't think I was his?"

Bellatrix nodded. Narcissa twirled her hair, unable to help herself even though she was trying to break the habit.

"That's why Mother hurried into her marriage with Stepfather. He had money. Not Malfoy or Lestrange money, or even Black or Rosier money, but enough to keep us from being destitute. Enough to afford us a live-out maid and nice clothes, but she had to sell off our house elf and some of her best jewelry."

"So she ignored what… what Stepfather did to us… for money?"

"Yeah, basically, except by the time you got to Hogwarts he was more or less broke too."

"That's why Mother fired Ingrid?" (Ingrid was the maid.) "How'd he go broke?"

"Stepfather had a habit of gambling away his family money and the deadbeat didn't work so no more was coming in. Of course Mother didn't work either, who would expect her to? With Stepfather unable to stop gambling and without access to Father's money, we would have eventually had nothing. Thankfully tuition was covered by Father's will, including for you - so you see, he couldn't have been totally convinced you weren't his! - then when Stepfather was murdered, what little he had left went to Mother, which she added to what remained of the Rosier gold, but she knew it wouldn't last long. That's why she couldn't wait to get you married, to get _us_ married, especially once Andromeda was gone. She wanted access to that money."

"But I wasn't going to get any."

"But she didn't know that. Not yet."

Narcissa fought back the bile rising up in her throat. How could this be? What if… what if Father's suspicions were correct? What if he wasn't her father? What if she wasn't a Black?

Who was she?

"What did Mother do?"

"She was thrilled when you got knocked up. You couldn't have picked a wealthier wizarding family if you'd tried. Mother went straight to the Malfoys, demanding they force Lucius to marry you. Abraxas and Claudia knew the Black and Rosier names, of course, but they hired someone to investigate you anyway, to investigate our family, leaving no stone unturned, and that's how they discovered that while Father had paid your tuition, he didn't leave you any additional inheritance. They found this perplexing… and then they found out why. Mother was furious. The Malfoys were, too. They felt tricked. They said you should get rid of the baby, that they didn't want a grandchild of uncertain parentage. I mean, what if you were half-blood or something? Not that you are, but they worried, you know. Quite understandably," Bellatrix added loftily, "Given their status among the Sacred 28. Anyway, I was there, at Mother's house, when they came to call upon her with the news. I think they expected her to feel ashamed and apologize, but instead she doubled-down on her insistence that he marry you and added that she felt you were worth a significant dowry."

"A dowry?" Narcissa ran her finger around the edge of her mug of pumpkin juice, trying to keep herself calm. "They wanted me to have an abortion and she responded by asking for a dowry?"

"She said if they didn't come through, she would go to the Prophet's gossip columnist and tell the world all about how the adult son of Abraxas Malfoy had knocked up her poor, sweet, half-blood daughter, still a Hogwarts student, and then refused to do the honorable thing by marrying her."

"Mother said she'd tell the Prophet I was a half-blood?!"

"Yes, but don't worry Cissy, she only said it to incite a reaction from them, she assured me of your blood-status after they'd gone. Naturally the Malfoys were horrified and desperate to avoid a scandal, especially since it had only been a year before that Abraxas himself made the gossip pages when he'd allegedly been caught out at a Muggle nightclub with a Mudblood girl he was believed to be shagging behind his wife's back. I told you then and I've told you since, all those Malfoy men are dogs. But Claudia would have done anything to avoid the name Malfoy ending up back in the press."

Narcissa tore the crust of her bread into bits, staring down at her plate. "Did… did Lucius know? About all this?"

"I honestly don't know. We never spoke of it. You'd have to ask him."

"I will," said Narcissa, deciding she'd confront him the moment he returned home from wherever he'd disappeared to. "So, if Father wasn't my father, who was? Who was Mother having this… this affair with? Who was Father's friend?"

"Oh, Cissy," said Bellatrix. She took her sister's hand, regarding her with genuine sympathy. "Don't you see, Love? There's a reason you were always Stepfather's favorite."

Narcissa froze as if she'd been Stunned.

No.

It couldn't be.

That awful man could _not_ be her father.

It was bad enough to have been abused for all those years by her stepfather, but to think they could be blood-related…"

"Stepfather didn't know for certain, though!" Bella said quickly. "And neither did Father! That's why he paid your tuition but didn't leave an inheritance. He didn't know for certain, he wanted to make sure you were cared for, but he also wanted to send a message to Mother. And it's not as if Stepfather was blond, and you have Mother's eyes, so…"

"So maybe Father is my father, or maybe it was Stepfather, or maybe it's someone else entirely?" Narcissa choked back a horrified sob. This was too much. Too much. She was sorry she'd asked. Bella was right. She wished she didn't know.

"I'm sorry, Cissy," said Bella, squeezing her hand. "I'm truly sorry."

"It's alright, Bella." Narcissa stood, taking back her hand, attempting to appear dignified and unaffected, calling upon her developing Occlumency skills to do so. "I appreciate knowing. Thank you. I… I need some time alone now. Don't worry about me, okay? I just… I need space."

"Alright," said Bellatrix. "I'll be up to retrieve Nova shortly."

"Yes," said Narcissa distractedly. "That's fine."

Narcissa checked the Master bedroom in case her husband had returned. She did not find him, but she did find where he was keeping the liquor. A half dozen bottles of wine, three partially-consumed bottles of vodka, scotch, and bourbon, and one nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey were lined up atop her dresser, where her makeup used to be.

"What luck," she said. She opened a bottle of elf-made red wine and, forgoing a glass, began to drink. She had consumed more than three-quarters of the bottle before Lucius returned that evening.

"Narcissa!" he exclaimed, having expected to find the bedroom empty. "What are you doing here?"

"I want the truth," she demanded, pointing a thin finger in his direction. "And I want it now."

"Very well," he replied with a sigh. "But before you get angry, let me remind you that you told me I could see someone else if I so desired."

"I… what?" Clumsily, she set the bottle down on her bedside table. "What're you talking about?"

"I…" He paused, removing his travelling cloak and looking her over carefully. "What are _you_ talking about?"

"You first."

"No, ladies first."

" _You_ first. You were out having sex? Are you having an affair? With who? Juliet?" She took a long swig from the bottle. He pushed back his hair. He was clean-shaven today and appeared better rested than he had since before the Snatchers brought Potter to Malfoy Manor.

"I'm not having an affair," he quickly assured her. "And I was not with Juliet. But I have needs, Narcissa."

"Spare me your needs." She took another sip, and then another. The contents of the bottle were almost gone. This was the most she'd consumed in one sitting since she promised Severus she would cut back and as a result it was hitting her hard. She was starting to slur her words, slightly. She drank down the last of it. "What'ss her name?"

"Hortensia," he said. "It meant nothing."

"Hortenssia?" That's who Severus had been with on Halloween. Hortensia Higgins, wife of Rocco Pyrites. "Doess _everyone_ fuck Hortenssia? Damn, she _is_ aptly named."

Lucius looked at her inquisitively. "Why? Who else has been with Hortensia?"

"Bellatrix," answered Narcissa without pause. Oh, shit. The alcohol was hitting her harder now. "Bella was onccce with Hortensssia in front of the Dark Lord."

"Oh?" Lucius couldn't hide a perverse smirk. "I had no idea. When was this?"

"You're a pig," snapped Narcissa. She pointed at the wine bottles on the dresser. "Hand me one of thosse."

"I think you've had enough."

"Hand me one," she insisted. She pulled out her wand to summon one over, but he caught the bottle in midair with one hand while non-verbally disarming her with the other. She glared at him.

"I wanted that."

"You've had enough, Narcissa."

"It'ss not your businesss to tell me I've had enough."

"What truth did you want?" he asked, hoping to distract her from both the liquor and the news of his more recent transgression. He sat on the bed opposite her. "You said you wanted the truth."

"Did you know?" she asked.

He waited for her to explain, but she did not.

Finally, he asked, "Did I know what?"

"Your parents invessstigated me before we were married. They disscovered Father might not be my father. Did you know?"

"Oh, that." He ceased making eye contact, which told her all she needed to.

"How could you not tell me?" she asked, clearly hurt. "How could you know and not…"

"I wasn't supposed to know… about them investigating you, I mean. About any of it. But I knew what he did to you, Narcissa. Your stepfather. I knew what a monster… I thought, if he turned out to be your real father, you'd be better off not knowing. We both would. I was protecting you. Us. Us and our baby. You were pregnant, remember? You didn't need the stress."

"You kept it from me all these yearsss?" She looked to him with hurt in her eyes. He had to glance away. "You kept it from me, Luciuss?"

"Because I _loved_ you." He reached out his hand to take hers. "Because I _love_ you."

"I desserved to know!"

"What good is knowing? Besides, he might not be your father. You might have been upset over nothing."

"Upsset over nothing?! I'm the only b-blonde in my family!" Her voice cracked as she spoke. "If Father was my father, where did thiss hair come from?"

"Juliet is blonde," Lucius pointed out. "And she's a Rosier, like your mother."

Narcissa's eyes filled with tears. She hadn't thought of that, but he was right. That bitch Juliet had the same eye color as Narcissa's mother and uncle, and the same white-blonde hair as she and Draco.

"I could've got'n my hair from the Rosssier sside," Narcissa slurred, as the effect of the already consumed alcohol increased. "That'ss good." Her relief was short-lived. "But that doessn't mean Father wass my father. That doessn't mean I'm a Black like Bella. That doessn't mean I'm pureblood. That doessn't mean…"

"Don't let it bother you," said Lucius dismissively. "As I told my parents, I don't care if you're not really pureblood. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't mean anything."

"It doess to me!" A sob escaped her throat. She rose, steadied herself by placing her hand on the headboard, then stormed over to the dresser. She grabbed the nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey, twisted off the cap, and took a sip. It burned. She didn't care. Lucius rose and grabbed the neck of the bottle.

"You're done drinking," he said.

"You don't tell me when I'm done," she snapped, forcing the bottle to her lips. She managed only a small sip before he wrenched it away.

"This is precisely why nobody told you, Narcissa. As I said, no good can come from wondering. You'll only destroy yourself… No!" He intercepted as she reached for the bottle of bourbon.

"How could you k-keep ssomething like thiss from m-me all thesse y-yearss, Lucius?" The pain was palpable in her voice. "And sstop sstopping me!" She grabbed for a bottle of vodka, twisted off the cap, and chugged as much as she could before he wrestled the bottle away.

"Are you trying to pickle yourself?" he asked.

"I'm trying to forget who I am!" That was the moment the floodgates opened. Tears streamed openly down her cheeks as she hiccupped, unable to properly catch her breath. "Stepfather c-can't be m-my _father_ , Lucius! H-how could a p-parent… to h-his own child… th-that can't b-be _who I am_! That c-can't be where I _c-come from_! I wasss sso afraid I would hurt Draco when he wass little. Sso afraid... but I told mysself, it'ss not hereditary, and even if it iss, he wassn't my father., sso I couldn't inherit... inherit... but what if he wasss?!" She was crying so hard her entire upper body shook. "Now g-give me that f-fucking b-bottle." She grabbed the vodka and shoved him with such force it made him stumble back a step. She twisted the cap off and downed another long sip. Again he attempted to steal it from her. This time she slapped him across the face, but he did not loosen his grip on the neck of the bottle. She brought back her hand to hit him a second time. He deflected, but her third blow, this time made with a fist, caught his ear.

"Fuck!" he swore, stepping away, rubbing it. "That bloody hurt!"

"Good! Go to hell!" she shouted, deciding (quite unfairly) to take out her anger on him because she had to direct it somewhere, and all those who deserved it were dead. She drank more. He shook his head.

"I'm not going to let you drown yourself in a bottle."

"Y-you d-don't have any control over m-me!" She was toeing the line of hysteria as she sipped more, took a step toward him with a raised hand and stumbled. He took the opportunity to advance on her, knocking the open vodka bottle to the floor. The contents spilled out creating a puddle. She raised her right fist to hit him yet again but he grabbed her wrist and twisted her forearm painfully behind her back and forced her face-down onto the bed. He slipped his free hand under her chest to grab her trapped other wrist as he placed his knee against her lower back, pinning her down. She turned her head to the side and struggled to free herself. He leaned close, his lips a breath from her ear.

"Hit me one more fucking time, Narcissa," he said threateningly. She squirmed, still trying to escape, but it was futile. He was bigger, stronger, and sober. Lucius took several deep breaths to calm down, reminding himself that she wasn't in control at the moment either, the alcohol was. "You don't know what you're doing, but when you sober up, I'm going to lay down a few new rules, and the first is that you are not permitted to drink. No alcohol. Of any kind. For any reason. Not ever."

"Ssod off."

"You are not to raise a hand to me and you'll speak to me with respect."

"Go fuck yourself."

"If I have to commit you to a sanitarium, Narcissa, so help me, I'll do it. You have a problem and your problem has become my problem and Draco's problem and on your birthday it even became Snape's problem!" (He was referring to the night she and Severus had lied about her being too drunk to come home.) "I can't live like this."

"So don't!" She twisted and writhed, attempting to wriggle out from under him, but he only pressed his knee harder into her lower back and tightened his grip on both the wrist pinned under her chest and the one behind her back, making it hurt when she tried to move. "D-don't live l-like this! I h-hate you, Luciuss. I hate you! I want a divorce!"

"You want a divorce?" Lucius removed his knee, pulled her body up, then roughly released her so she fell face down again. He backed away. He tossed her wand on the bed and threw up his hands. "Fine! Get a divorce. You want to drink? Fine." He grabbed one of the bottles of red wine and held it toward her. "Knock yourself out. Literally. Drink until you've passed out. I said I can't live like this and I meant it, Narcissa. When you've sobered up, when you've come to your senses, maybe you'll see that _I am not the enemy_."

She stood, taking the wand and the bottle and swaying slightly, but remained silent, unsure what to say or whether she should speak at all. Before she could come up with something, he pointed toward the door.

"Get out, Narcissa. I need to be alone."

"B-but…" Her eyes widened fearfully. The room was spinning. Her limbs felt like jelly and lead at once. She thought she might vomit. Or faint. Or both. She could barely keep upright. "But I'm sick."

"I know," he said, rubbing his sore ear while resisting the urge to take her in his arms and promise he could make it all better. "I know you're sick, but I can't help you. Not right now. Get out."

She nodded numbly and left him alone, stumbling back to her own room. She collapsed onto the bed and cried furiously until she was out of tears, then snapped her fingers to make Squeakers appear.

"Open this," she demanded, holding out the bottle. Squeakers reached toward it, then hesitated.

"Wouldn't… wouldn't Mistress Malfoy prefer some coffee, ma'am? Or tea? Squeakers can make tea. Tea with lemon?"

"Open it," demanded Narcissa coldly. Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot; she could barely keep her head up. She tapped Squeakers' shoulder with the bottle. Squeakers took it, but hesitated. Master Malfoy had been very clear that the house elves should not provide alcohol for Mistress Malfoy, but at the same time, how could she defy a direct order from her other master? She tried again to get the Mistress to agree to another beverage.

"Squeakers will bring coffee and biscuits? Mistress Malfoy will take sugar?"

"Open it or go iron your handss until the sskin bubbless," demanded Narcissa with an air of cruelty she had never before directed at the little elf. She had reached a new, dangerous stage in her drunkenness, one she'd never hit before, not even the February night she drank to extreme excess in the attic and had to be saved by Severus. That night, at least, there hadn't been whiskey or vodka involved, and she'd taken longer to consume the wine she'd had.

She pointed her wand at Squeakers.

"I ssaid open it, Elf."

Squeakers did so but immediately after handing Narcissa the bottle she began banging her head against the wall in an act of self-flagellation, punishment for disobeying Master Malfoy by listening to the missus.

"I command you to sstop hurting yoursself!" ordered Narcissa, much to Squeakers' relief. Narcissa brought the bottle to her lips and began to drink, consumed by the need to escape both the discovery that Stepfather might have actually been her parent by blood and the knowledge her husband had known all these years. She'd made it about a third of the way through the bottle (with the house elf anxiously observing each sip) when she decided she was deserting Malfoy Manor for good. She stood up on shaking legs, grabbed a drawstring bag from her top dresser drawer, and threw a few random items in it: a hairbrush, Dreamless Sleep, a floor-length silk slip, two pairs of socks, the healing salve, Babbity Rabbity, several galleons, a framed photo of Draco as a toddler, and what was left of the bottle of wine, the neck of which stuck out the top when she pulled the cords to close the bag.

"I'm leaving!" she informed Squeakers defiantly.

"Oh, oh, Mistress Malfoy, ma'am, Squeakers does not think that's a good idea!" Nervously, the tiny house elf followed Narcissa down the hall, down the stairs, and to the front door, begging her with every step not to go. Narcissa ignored her. By some miracle, she managed to make it all the way to the apparition point before she lost her footing in the mud and fell to her hand and knees. "Bloody hell!"

"Let Squeakers bring you back inside," the house elf pleaded, her voice getting more high pitched with each word. "Squeakers will draw Mistress a hot bath!"

"No!" insisted Narcissa. "I'm done!" She closed her eyes, clutched her wand, and attempted to disapparate. Thankfully, Squeakers had the sense to grab hold of the skirt of her dress as she disappeared. When both opened their eyes again, they were just beyond the Shrieking Shack. Narcissa was bleeding.

"Mistress has splinched herself!" exclaimed Squeakers, in a tizzy. "Mistress needs help! Mistress needs to return to Malfoy Manor! Mistress–"

"Mistresss is going to see Professsor Ssnape at Hogwartss," snapped Narcissa, only marginally aware of the blood seeping through the thick white material of her dress, dripping its way down her left arm. "Mistresss will not return to Malfoy… Manor… Mistresss will…" Narcissa was dizzy. Too dizzy. Whether it was from the alcohol or the splinching or a combination of both, she couldn't be sure, but she was certain of one thing – she couldn't stand. "Mistresss…" she whispered, having fallen to her knees in mud for the second time since initiating her escape. Even with her eyelids squeezed tightly shut, she could see swirling lights. Her stomach lurched, emptying its contents on the ground in front of her. She opened her eyes… or tried to…

But everything went dark.

She wouldn't remember it, but this was the lowest point of her life thus far.

And beside her, the tiny elf was panicking.

Meanwhile, in his bed at Hogwarts, Severus tossed and turned. He'd tried to go to sleep early tonight, exhausted from a long day of dealing with mutinous Dumbledore's Army members, the ones he could still find, anyway. Defiant students were disappearing one by one, day by day, presumably into the Room of Requirement, but thus far he hadn't been able to infiltrate it or catch any of them. It started after students returned from Easter holiday, when Dawlish attempted to kidnap Neville Longbottom's Gran. The spunky old lady had sent the man to St. Mungos and gone on the run, then Neville disappeared, as if into thin air. And each time the Carrows punished another student for insubordination, that student disappeared too, shortly thereafter – at first, Severus had worried the Carrows were actually behind the missing students, but slipping Veritaserum into their drinks told him they were as clueless as he was. Fucking teenagers. How could he keep them safe when he didn't even know where the hell they were or what they were doing? Knowing that clumsy dunderhead-turned-rebel Longbottom, it was probably something stupid.

Before dinner, he'd written a lengthy note to Narcissa, one he now regretted sending, and yet he couldn't bring himself to write again to tell her to ignore it, because he'd meant it too. After the disappointment of going all the way to Malfoy Manor that morning without seeing her, he'd returned feeling as though he had to do _something_ about their relationship – about their baby – and all he knew for certain was no matter what decision he made, or what decision she made, she would end up getting hurt. As of the time he crawled into bed, she still hadn't responded. He wondered what that meant. Was she devastated? Furious? Understanding? Feeling betrayed? Would she eventually reply, or let him suffer in silence until they managed to see each other again?

Had he done the best thing for her or made a terrible mistake?

Should he owl her the potion?

Would she want to take it?

Did he want her to take it?

Damn it. He loved her.

Severus finally fell into an uneasy sleep… an uneasy sleep that morphed into a nightmare.

 _The Dark Lord said His Death Eaters had captured two women. One pureblood, one Muggleborn, and He intended to kill one of them, but Severus could save the other._

 _"_ _Which one?" asked the Dark Lord in His high, cold voice. "You choose. The other shall die."_

 _"_ _But who… who have you captured, my Lord?" asked Severus, perplexed. "Why should I save one? And why only one?"_

 _"_ _I wish to know where your loyalties lie," said the Dark Lord, odd emphasis on that last word. "Bring them forth!"_

 _From the shadows came four Death Eaters, cloaked and masked, but Severus recognized them. To the Dark Lord's left, Bellatrix and Lucius. To His right, the Carrows._

 _Each couple was holding between them a kneeling woman, her arms stretched out straight to either side, like a T. He could not see either of their faces as both were limply facing the floor, but he'd know their hair anywhere._

 _Lucius and Bellatrix were holding up Narcissa._

 _And the Carrows had Lily._

 _"_ _You can only save one, Severus," the Dark Lord reminded him. "Which will it be?"_

 _"_ _But… my Lord," said Severus. "Narcissa – Mrs. Malfoy – she's one of us."_

 _"_ _Is she?" the Dark Lord laughed. Bellatrix joined in, cackling cruelly. Severus' blood ran cold, as cold as that of the snake Nagini, who slithered about by her master's feet._

 _"_ _Mrs. Malfoy hates me," said the Dark Lord. "I was going to have her, to teach her a lesson, to thoroughly enjoy her, but she tricked me, robbing me of the pleasure. She is not loyal to me, I see that now. Or did you think teaching her Occlumency would matter?"_

 _"_ _But… but Lily, you said you'd spare her, my Lord."_

 _"_ _She thrice defied me. She got in my way."_

 _"_ _But… my Lord, you said…"_

 _"_ _Lily Evans has a son, Severus. If she dies, her baby dies."_

 _"_ _My Lord…"_

 _"_ _Narcissa Malfoy is pregnant, Severus. If she dies, her baby dies."_

 _"_ _My Lord, please…"_

 _"_ _Which will it be, Severus? Choose one or I'll kill them both."_

 _"_ _Kill me, my Lord," begged Severus, dropping to his own knees. "Kill me and spare them both."_

 _"_ _No deal." The Dark Lord raised His wand. He prodded Lily's temple with the tip. She made momentary eye contact with Severus, fear evident in her wide green eyes, the thoughtful eyes he knew so well. "Shall I use the Killing Curse on the Mudblood?" asked the Dark Lord. Now He switched hands, brushing the wand against Narcissa's bruised cheek. She glanced up at Severus with her chin tilted down, that way he found so endearing. She bit her lip. The Dark Lord hissed a command to Nagini, who slithered between them, then turned His attention back to His groveling servant, Severus. "Which is it? The Mudblood… or the blood-traitor?"_

 _Both women redirected their gazes to the floor._

 _"_ _Please, my Lord, I can't. Please. Bellatrix?" Severus looked to her pleadingly, hoping she would make a case for her sister so he could appeal to the Dark Lord on Lily's behalf._

 _"_ _Should have brewed me all three of those potions I needed, Snape," said Bellatrix flippantly, tearing off her mask, tossing it to the floor. "I feel no loyalty to a sister who refuses to worship at the feet of the Dark Lord."_

 _"_ _Severus?" prompted the Dark Lord._

 _"_ _My Lord?" asked Severus. He felt sick._

 _"_ _Choose, Severus. Choose now, or I'll kill them both. Choose. Severus. Choose now."_

 _"_ _I… I choose…" No, he couldn't! How could he? How could anyone?_

 _"_ _Now, Severus. Crucio!" Severus doubled over in unbearable pain. The Carrows guffawed behind their disguises as Bellatrix cackled. Only Lucius, who was now holding his mask in his trembling left hand, was looking down upon Severus with concern._

 _"_ _Who will it be, Severus?" asked the Dark Lord. "Who will live? And who will die? Choose, Severus, or I'll kill them both! Choose. It's up to you. It's all in your hands. Choose! Now!" The Dark Lord motioned to His snake, who wound her way around Narcissa's waist, then slithered off toward Lily. "Decide, damn you! Make a decision! Make a choice! Who will you save? Choose now! Choose!" The Dark Lord paused, glaring at Severus through red-slitted eyes, furious at his hesitation. "Fair enough, you weak, pathetic, traitorous man. If you won't choose, I will. Avada–!"_

 _"_ _Lily!" shouted Severus impulsively. "I choose Lily!"_

 _"_ _Very well," said the Dark Lord, smiling. Narcissa looked up from the floor, making eye contact with her lover. Inside his chest, his heart shattered. Shards shredded his internal organs, hurting worse than the Cruciatus ever could._

 _"_ _I thought you loved me, Severus," Narcissa whispered, a lone tear trickling down her bruised cheek._

 _"_ _I… I do!" Severus assured her. He tried to rush to her but his feet were planted firmly to the ground, against his will. "I do love you! Please, my Lord, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I made a mistake! I was wrong. I'm sorry!" The Dark Lord laughed. Severus dropped to his knees, begging. "You can't... Please! Please, my Lord, I've changed my mind!"_

 _But it was too late. There was a flash of green light._

 _And Severus was forced to watch as the mother of his unborn baby crumpled to the floor._

 _Dead._

 _Because of him._

Severus sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding, the fear still fresh. He was consumed by guilt over the heartless decision of his subconscious. He should have said no. He should have refused to choose, or found a way to save them both. Hell, if he truly had to, he should have picked Narcissa. Lily was going to die anyway. Lily chose her path when she chose Potter - not that Severus could condemn her to death either. But Narcissa loved Severus. She trusted him. How could he live with himself?

He froze in the darkness, realizing suddenly that it wasn't the nightmare's conclusion that had awoken him.

No, there had been something else. A noise in his bedroom. A loud crack. And someone… someone was stumbling around in the dark.

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Severus, grabbing his wand from the bedside table. The figure fell to the floor. "Lumos!"

Crumpled in a heap was the very woman he'd just sentenced to death in his dream. Beside her was a large-eared, pug-nosed, concerned looking house elf.

"Please, Headmaster Professor Snape, sir, please help Mistress Malfoy! She would not return home so Squeakers… Squeakers had to bring her here, sir! It was an order!"

"Narcissa?" He hurried out of bed and to her side. She was bleeding. The bruising that had been on her face when they last saw each other was nearly fully healed, but she looked a mess anyway. Her hair was tangled and hanging limply across her face, she was covered in mud from the knees down, and when he tipped her head back her bloodshot eyes barely opened, not registering her surroundings. "Ennervate!" he said, thinking perhaps he'd accidentally Stunned her. She stirred, but did not wake. "What the hell happened?"

"Mistress Malfoy ma'am has been drinking, sir. Mistress Malfoy has been drinking very much. Very, very much, sir. Squeakers is scared."

"It's… fine," he said. But it wasn't. "Narcissa, wake up! Narcissa. Narcissa, can you hear me?" Damn it. Narcissa was completely unresponsive. His moderate healing abilities primarily revolved around things he'd encountered during the first war by necessity; he had no idea how to sober up a dangerously intoxicated alcoholic. He was going to need help. But who? Not Madam Pomfrey. She might know what to do, but Obliviating people was hardly his forte and he couldn't risk her saying something about this – she was too chatty, too friendly with Minerva and Fillius. He did have one idea… but no, it was crazy… wasn't it? "Narcissa?" he tried again. Still, nothing.

"Headmaster Professor?" said the house elf in a timid voice. She leaned anxiously over her Mistress.

"Squeakers, is it?"

The tiny creature nodded. She was wringing her hands, tears in her unnervingly wide eyes.

"If I give you the name of someone in this castle, do you have the ability to apparate directly to that person's side, or do you need more information regarding location?" He knew that house elves had powers wizards did not possess, but had no idea how extensive they were.

"I can do it with a name, Headmaster Professor, sir."

"Apparate to the chambers of Professor Septima Vector. Tell her she is needed in the Headmaster's sitting room. Tell her the password is Albino Peacock. I changed it this evening." (He'd taken to changing it every day, thanks to rogue DA members trying to bust into his office whenever he was out.) "It's an emergency. I'll care for Nar– Mrs. Malfoy. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Squeakers answered sagely. With a loud crack, she disapparated. Severus gathered Narcissa in his arms and carried her into the sitting room, depositing her gently on the sofa. He used Diffindo to tear off the sleeve of her long, white dress, allowing him to identify the source of the bleeding. He recognized the cause of the injury straight away.

"You Splinched yourself? Merlin's beard, Narcissa," he muttered, summoning over Essence of Dittany from the cupboard along the far wall. Using it and his wand, he did the best he could to patch her up. Thankfully, she had only torn off a strip of skin from her shoulder to her elbow and nothing worse. He'd fixed worse. He was wrapping white bandaging around her upper arm when Squeakers and Septima Vector entered.

"You said you have an emergency, Snape?" the sleepy, fair-skinned witch asked suspiciously. She was wearing a thick plaid bathrobe over a thin cotton nightgown and green slippers, her graying black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. It had been a long time since Severus had seen her looking so… disheveled. She caught sight of the figure on the couch. Her expression softened slightly. "Severus, who's this?"

"This is my… friend. Narcissa. Her son is a student here. I'm patching her up because she Splinched herself."

"Narcissa Malfoy!" exclaimed Septima, suddenly recognizing the woman. "I don't know her, but I've heard of her, of course. They're a prominent family, the Malfoys. You know I've studied wizarding genealogy rather extensively. And I taught her sister, Bellatrix, many years ago. Bright girl. Pity she spent half her life in Azkaban, but I suppose that's what happens when one is certifiably psychotic... So what's Mrs. Malfoy doing here? If she Splinched herself, why do you need me? I'm not a bloody healer."

"She's an alcoholic and she's drunk. Unconscious."

"Ah." Septima nodded. Now she understood why he'd called for her. While she no longer considered them friends, not since Dumbledore's death, in the many years they'd casually slept together and shared meals they'd had a number of relatively dispassionate discussions about various things, including alcohol. They'd both been raised by alcoholic parents, but while Severus had spent his childhood avoiding his pissed father and pitying his abused mother, Septima had been left alone to care for her rarely-sober single mum, having had to save the woman's life multiple times, all while keeping her younger siblings from realizing just how bad things really were in the Vector home.

Their conversations about this were about as in-depth as their communications ever got.

And since Dumbledore's death, the few times they'd been together physically, they hadn't made much effort to talk at all.

"I don't know what to do with her, Septima. I thought about putting her in the shower and turning on the cold water..."

"All that'll do is get her wet. Besides…" Septima felt Narcissa's cheeks, neck, and bare arm, and sniffed her breath. "She's already cold. How long was she outside?"

"I don't know."

"Not long!" Squeakers piped up. "Squeakers took good care of Mistress Malfoy! Well…" Squeakers averted her gaze to the carpeted floor. "Squeakers tried. Squeakers tried to keep her from leaving! Squeakers tried to keep her from leaving Master Malfoy. Squeakers tried to keep her from leaving Malfoy Manor." Squeakers sighed, dejected. "Squeakers tried."

"You did well," said Severus, which made the tiny house elf beam despite the gravity of the situation. "Squeakers, you must return to Malfoy Manor now. You are ordered not to say a word to anyone – anyone! – about Mrs. Malfoy's condition or location, understand? Not one word. If anyone asks you, you can say, 'When I last saw her, she'd been drinking.' Which is not a lie, alright? So you won't have to punish yourself. Simply say, 'When I last saw her, she'd been drinking.' I need to think on what to do next. Go."

"Yes, Headmaster Professor Severus Snape, sir!" She disapparated.

"Can I expect your discretion?" Severus asked Septima. She stared back at him without expression for several uncomfortable seconds before replying.

"You should know me well enough to know, my dear boy, that I am nothing if not a master of discretion."

"I'm nearly forty," said Severus, turning his attention back to Narcissa, whose breathing was ragged. "Someday you'll have to stop calling me a 'dear boy.'"

"No matter how old you get, I'll always be older," she pointed out. She knelt on the floor beside the couch, turning Narcissa onto her side. "She'll breathe better this way. Plus, if she vomits again, we don't want her to choke."

"Again?"

Septima raised her wand and, starting at the crown of Narcissa's head, moved it down the length of her body, all the way to her toes, nodding periodically as she gathered information.

"What are you checking?"

"Everything. Her functions are slow and her breathing is shallow, but nothing that would warrant a trip to St. Mungos. Her lips aren't blue. No sign of a seizure. Her color is relatively normal, as is her heart rate. That's a good sign. Did you try to wake her?"

"She looked at me for a second, then closed her eyes."

"Hm." Septima opened one of Narcissa's eyes gently then let it close. "What's this, here? These purple flecks below her brow? Someone's been hitting her?"

"Does she need food?" asked Severus, purposely not answering. "Or coffee?"

"She'll need food when she gets hungry, but it's too late for a full belly to combat the effects of the alcohol. She should drink water to avoid dehydration, but we can't force it on her until she awakens, and all coffee would do is further dehydrate her and keep her awake. We should remove this dress – I assume she's wearing something under it – since the material is soaked through with mud. I can do that if you're uncomfortable. We'll wrap her in a blanket to keep her warm, but take care she doesn't overheat. Aside from that, you simply have to stay with her, stay alert, watch for signs she might be choking or struggling to breathe, keep her on her side, and wait it out. Now, wintergreen or peppermint?"

"What?" asked Severus.

"Wintergreen it is," said Septima. She tapped her wand to Narcissa's parted lips and sniffed her breath again. "That's better. Now, we wait until she wakes."

"That's all?" asked Severus. "There's isn't… you can't just wake her up now?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Severus, but there's no miracle cure for drunkenness. Trust me. I spent most of my younger years trying to find one. It's why I don't touch the stuff now. Never have. Butterbeer's enough for me."

"I know," he said softly, brushing Narcissa's hair out of her face. "I remember."

"So…" Septima slipped her wand back into the pocket of her bathrobe. "How long have you been seeing her?"

"She's just a friend," he insisted, going blank-faced even though Septima was completely unskilled in Legilimency.

"Sure." She rolled her eyes. "A lot of my 'just friends' turn up in my chambers in the middle of the night completely wasted, too. Minerva kept me up all last night drunkedly shouting about fixed Quidditch World Cups in the eighteenth century, Pomona Sprout popped in right tipsy off American Gigglewater an hour ago, and before that, I entertained a stumbling, slurring Horace Slughorn for most of the evening."

"I'd believe that about Horace," said Severus, shooting her a teasing smile. "He fancies you. You should marry him. It's not too late to settle down, Septima, make an honest woman of yourself, throw a traditional wedding. May I give you away?"

She made a disgusted face and shook her head. "Please. Marriage is an abomination and he's too old for me."

"He's about as much older than you than you are of me."

Her jaw dropped. "Apparently you think I'm much older than I am, Headmaster! Careful, my dear boy. You are now treading on dangerous ground."

"Why? How old _are_ you now? Seventy?" he asked, wondering what Narcissa would say were she cognizant enough to register this conversation. He sat on the couch, lifted Narcissa's head, and placed it in his lap. Septima flipped him the two-finger salute.

"You have the maturity of a day-old doughnut."

"Speaking of day-old doughnuts," said Severus. "Your quip was about as fresh as one."

She shook her head. "You can't turn my own insult around on me, you unimaginative fuckwit. I have no idea what the Malfoy woman even sees in you."

"It's my youthful good looks," he said without a hint of humor.

"I don't think so," mused Septima, as if seriously contemplating this. "No, that's certainly not it. It must be something else." She began to remove Narcissa's dress, taking care to ensure she was not naked under it. "Ah, yes, a slip."

"She thinks I'm good in bed," said Severus, who had resumed stroking Narcissa's hair.

"In that case," began Septima with a sly smile, "When she wakes, tell her I said, 'you're welcome.' Does she know I taught you everything you know?"

"She does," he answered honestly. "She knows everything."

"Well, now, this _is_ interesting!" Septima tossed the muddy white dress on the coffee table and summoned over an afghan from the hope chest against the far wall, under the cabinet containing useful potions. "So your girl's not only not 'just a friend,' she's not 'just a fling' either?"

He refused to respond.

"You don't have to tell me. I can see it in the way you look at her. My, my, my!" She chuckled as she wrapped the crocheted wool blanket tightly around Narcissa, who was now wearing only a slip that covered from her chest down to her mid-thigh. She tapped her wand to the afghan twice, murmuring a warming spell. "My dear little Death Eater has fallen in love. I don't blame you. She's reasonably attractive."

"You're throwing around those two words awfully casually, considering," he said, not looking at her.

"Which two words? 'In love?' or 'reasonably attractive'?"

"Neither. I was referring to 'Death Eater.' Aren't you afraid of me? The others are."

She laughed and knelt again on the floor, her back to the coffee table. She opened Narcissa's eyes one at a time, checking the pupils. "Our colleagues are not afraid of you, Severus, they're furious with you. Disgusted. Disappointed. Filled with seething, unrelenting, unapologetic, unmitigated and unending hatred…"

"I get it." He held up a hand. "No need to tell me more."

"But they're confused, too. Because Dumbledore always insisted there was something he had on you, something he knew that we didn't, some reason we could trust you even though it's no secret you worked for You-Know-Who during the last years of the First War. What was it, Severus? What did Dumbledore know that no one else does?" Her gaze flicked down to Narcissa's pale, peaceful face. "You said she knows everything. Does she know the secret you shared with Dumbledore?"

"She does," he said softly. "But no one else does. No one else will. My deal with Dumbledore died with Dumbledore. And if you try to wrestle the information from her, I'll hand you over to those Death Eaters you mention so casually and tell them to do with you what they wish, as they did to Charity Burbage."

"I think he was sick," said Septima, unaffected by this threat. "I think he was dying. The question is, why would you kill a dying man?"

"We're not having this discussion. Thank you for coming to my chambers so quickly. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I didn't realize the only cure was time. You may go."

"I'll keep you company awhile longer," she said. She rose from the floor, transfigured a book into a comfortable easy chair, and settled across from him. "I have questions."

"About?"

"A lot of things."

"For starters?"

"She's still married?" She was looking to him with mild curiosity. He stared back stone-faced. "Okay, so yes, she's still married. Does her husband know she's seeing you?"

"Of course not," snapped Severus. "He wouldn't exactly approve."

"Well, that must make things awkward at your secret Dark Lord meetings. That's what you call You-Know-Who, isn't it? The Dark Lord?"

"You know it is."

"Is it her husband? The one who's been abusing her?"

"What makes you think someone's been abusing her? She could have walked into a door. Or fallen down stairs. She drinks."

"You're an idiot if you think she walked into a door or fell down the stairs. In addition to the speckled bruising, she's got a recently healed fat lip, there are red marks around her wrists like she's been held down, there are scars all over her palms, she looks like someone took a knife to her kneecaps, and according to my diagnostics, she's still suffering slight damage to her throat from having been recently strangled, I'd guess maybe one or two months ago. She's either been abused or she's into some kinky shit I wouldn't have imagined you'd go for."

"I don't know about her wrists," said Severus. He hadn't noticed the red marks, but now he lifted one of her arms, looking more closely at the wrist. Sure enough, red marks. "The strangulation… she didn't…" He couldn't tell Septima the truth, that Lucius had done that during a fight, without violating Narcissa's trust. "The rest of her injuries, the bruising, the cuts, those were gifts from the Dark Lord."

"What a giving wizard your Dark Lord must be to have bestowed upon her so many gifts," Septima said sarcastically. "Lucky for you she's only drunk and not dead."

"Yes, well." Severus kissed her wrist before gently lowering her arm. He resumed stroking her hair.

"You were seeing her before you stopped seeing me?"

Deciding he might as well continue to be honest, he confirmed.

"But you stopped seeing me… when was it? Let's see, it was… last fall? Yes. Last fall. So something must have changed. What was it, Severus Snape? What changed six months ago? Is that when you fell in love?"

"What's wrong, Septima?" Severus asked, cocking one eyebrow arrogantly in an attempt to deflect. "Miss me?"

"Please," she scoffed, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her robe pocket. "I spent the entirety of the Easter holiday holed up in an Austrian ski chalet with a fifty-year-old Unspeakable from Barcelona. That crazy wizard has the stamina of a man half his age and the experience of a man twice it. You couldn't hold a candle to him if the wax and wick were permanently affixed to your palm and your greasy hair was on fire."

"You're charming," he interjected, but she ignored him.

"It was a lovely break from reality from which I'm still recovering. Mind if I smoke?" She didn't await his answer, using her wand to light one of the cigarettes. She smirked. "I hope to meet up with him in Greece over the summer. If all goes well, you won't see me again until the little brats return on September first. I'll have a tan but you'll manage to recognize me. I'll be the one barely able to walk."

Severus couldn't help laughing. She could be as brass as Bellatrix, but somehow he wasn't as put-off when she spoke this candidly, probably because, unlike with Bellatrix, their interactions had always been consensual. Even so, he held up a hand. "You can spare me the details, Professor Vector."

"Do you want me to spare you?" Grinning, she took a long drag and let the smoke out slowly. "Because I don't mind sharing. Maybe you can pick up a few tips to share with your married girlfriend, but I'll expect a Thank You card later – it's only polite."

"How did I ever get mixed up with a vulgar, immodest woman like you?" he asked. "Narcissa is your polar opposite. She has grace and class…"

"When's she conscious, you mean?" asked Septima snottily. She summoned over a glass bowl to use as an ashtray. He narrowed his eyes, furrowing his brow, not making eye contact. She chuckled. "Oh, now you're going to get sore? You're not going to answer me? Come on, you can't be _that_ angry; you know I was only teasing. I'm sure she's lovely. I mean it! She must be, to have captured your broken, frozen heart." She flicked ashes into the bowl. "So, what's your plan for when she wakes? Aside from feeding her, filling her with coffee, and tossing her in an icy shower?"

"I don't know."

"How often does she get like this?" She held out the cigarette pack. "Want one?"

He shook his head. She put the pack away.

"I've never seen her like this. Once – I've seen her pissed once. Tipsy a couple of times. And I know… She's told me she likes to drink before bed sometimes, to help her sleep. But never like this. I don't think she's ever been like this."

"Ah, a first timer." Septima looked upon the younger woman with an uncharacteristic touch of sympathy. "Well, she'll probably have a headache, a massive one. There's a potion for that, as I'm sure you know. If you don't have any here, Poppy does. She brews it mostly for Trelawney but I'm sure the old bat can share. There's a stomach settling solution she could probably benefit from as well. Give her lots of time to rest before you tell her what a fucking mess she made of herself, then shame her into cleaning up her act, because if you want any sort of future with her, you don't want it to be like this. Trust me."

"I don't want to upset her."

"No? Do you love her?"

"What kind of question is that?" he snapped, tearing his eyes from Narcissa to glare at Septima.

"One you just answered," she said simply, tapping the end of the cigarette against the inner edge of the bowl. "I'm happy for you, Severus. Really, I am. I never thought you'd find love, to be honest. I don't mean that as a dig, mind you. I merely thought you were, you know, more like me."

"Nosy, snarky, and rude?"

She smiled as if complimented. "I meant closed off and unwilling to become emotionally invested in a romantic way, but yes, I think we also share the qualities of being snarky and rude. Not sure I'd call you nosy, though. Unless, of course, I'm referring specifically to your overlarge nose. That said, if you love her, you'll do what you can to curb her addiction before it consumes her. Or kills her. Or destroys you. It's not easy living with an alcoholic."

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, ignoring both this jibe about his nose and the notion that Narcissa's alcoholism could prove fatal.

"You want to know if I've ever been in love?" Septima seemed surprised. In all of their years of casual sex and equally casual friendship, it was not a question he'd ever been bold enough to ask, though he had often wondered.

"Yes. Have you?"

"No," she said, the smile dissipating. "I used to let myself get close, sometimes, but then it always hurt more when I'd have to end it."

"Why end it?"

"Everything ends eventually. I like to get out before getting out gets painful. That's why I've always liked you. You're as guarded as I am, just as practical, just as unwilling to let yourself get hurt. Thank Merlin you never developed feelings for me. I'd have had to kill you and make it look like an accident." She puffed smoke rings into the air. He waved them away.

"Is that how you break it off with men who develop feelings for you? Kill them and make it look like an accident?"

"No. Usually I simply… disappear. I never let them know where I live, never tell them where I teach, though I suppose anyone with half a brain could figure it out. When I'm done, I'm simply… done. Poof. Gone."

"I've thought about disappearing," said Severus, brushing his thumb against Narcissa's cool, pale cheek.

"But you'd take her with you?"

"If she'd go."

"Because you love her?"

"As I've never loved anyone," he admitted.

"So why don't you? Disappear?"

He sighed. "I can't. There's work to be done."

"For Dumbledore? Or for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"I can't say."

"Can't you?"

"I suppose I could. But I won't."

"She's still married, though?"

"I told you, she is."

"Does she know how you feel about her?"

"She knows."

"Have you _told_ her? Or do you only _assume_ she knows?"

"I've told her." His gut churned and fluttered. He ran his fingers through her hair, working out the tangles. "I tell her every day."

"Good." Septima smiled approvingly, despite a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Minerva regrets not having told Dumbledore how she felt about him."

"It wouldn't have mattered, though, would it?" asked Severus. "Wasn't he gay?"

"Doesn't change the way she felt about him, nor does it lessen the regret she feels now. The point is, if you're going to make a choice – if you're going to choose _not_ to be like me – and that choice you make is to love someone, you should tell them while you can, else you'll end up as brokenhearted as our former deputy headmistress, and that's a terrible thing. I feel awful for her and I'd feel awful for you." She stubbed out the cigarette roughly as if mad at it and placed the bowl of ashes on the center of the coffee table. "Ugh, but now I sound sweet and emotional, as if I give a flying fuck about your feelings. Look what you've done, dragging me into this conversation, making me reveal that I do, in fact, possess the ability to empathize. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel, Severus Snape? Dirty, that's how. I need to go. I need to go shower. I need to wash away this heartwarming, compassionate, flowery bullshit before it sticks to me and ruins my entire personality. There's a reason most of my students feel intense hatred toward me and I can't risk letting them learn I'm only human."

He half-smiled. "You're not 'only human,' you're a witch. In every sense of the word."

"This is the appreciation I get for keeping you company in the middle of the night?" she teased. "Ungrateful bastard. A word of warning, Mrs. Malfoy might be rather unpleasant when she wakes, especially if she seeks another drink and you deny her. Don't take it personally."

"And I can expect your discretion? I'm reconfirming before you go because if I _can't_ expect it, I'll have to kill you and make it look like an accident."

"You wouldn't," she said. She leaned over Narcissa, tapped her wand to her crown, and repeated the diagnostic spell she'd done before. "No change." She looked directly into his eyes, making him uncomfortable. "You _couldn't_ kill me, Severus. Though I teach the rather sedentary magic of Arithmancy, I am a quick and capable witch, not a dying old man who refuses to fight back. Besides..." She straightened, still staring down at him, her unnaturally violet eyes glittering in the dim light. "What's the point of taking me out? You know full well you can trust me - I'm a vault more impenetrable than any at Gringotts - but you also know full well I'll end up supporting whichever side wins this war, despite my personal dislike of your Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, because _my_ primary goal is staying alive. So I'll keep your secrets, no matter which side you turn out to be on, and I'll expect the same, since I might have to shift allegiances eventually too."

"Did Dumbledore know you'd be so willing to switch sides in an act of self-preservation?"

The corners of her mouth turned up into the slightest smile. "Dumbledore didn't know everything, my dear boy. You Slytherins may be cunning, but we Ravenclaws are smart." She placed her hand at the back of his head, pulled him forward slightly, and kissed him on the forehead, the way a mother would.

"Good night, Headmaster."

"Thank you, Septima."

She exited the sitting room, closing the door behind her. He listened to her footsteps on echoing across the hardwood floor of his office until he was certain she'd completely gone. Then he lifted Narcissa and carried her into the loo, where he placed her, still wrapped in the blanket, in the tub, and removed her slip entirely, since it, too, was dirty, leaving her in only a bra and knickers. He did not turn on the cold water, but he did grab a facecloth and dampen it with warm water from the tap, which he used to gently scrub the dried mud from her hands and legs and to clean up the remaining blood from her splinched arm. She was breathing normally now, which he took to be a good sign, and she hadn't thrown up.

Thrown up.

The last time he'd seen her, she'd thrown up.

As if he'd just been plunged into icy water, he went cold and pale, wondering what exactly Septima had discovered during her little diagnostic. She'd started with her wand at Narcissa's head and gone all the way down… could she have, perhaps, discovered their greatest secret? Did she now know about the baby? Severus swore, wishing he'd thought to use Legilimency to probe her while they were talking. But then, did he need to worry? Despite Septima's assurance that she would align herself with whomever won the war, she was the most trustworthy, guarded, and discrete person he'd ever known, save, perhaps, for Dumbledore himself. It was the thing he'd liked most about her, just as it was the thing she'd liked most about him.

Still, there was risk. And risk meant danger. Perhaps he'd have to summon her back to his office the next day, to have Narcissa obliviate her, to be on the safe side.

Except then he'd have to tell Narcissa that he'd sought Septima's help when she was passed out.

"Well," he said aloud. "Perhaps that will help incentivize you to quit drinking." He placed a hand over her abdomen, concerned for the unborn baby inside, but of course it was too early to feel anything. "Not that you should need further incentive."

Suddenly, he was angry.

For the first time in a long time, he was angry with Narcissa.

Livid.

Furious.

She was the one who wanted to keep the damn baby, wasn't she?

He had brewed the abortion-inducing potion, just in case.

It was simmering in his office.

Tomorrow, it would be ready.

But would she want to take it?

And if she didn't, what damage might this night have done?

"Fuck," he swore. "I can't wait until you wake up so we can discuss this."

He lifted her from the tub, now clean, and carried her into his bedroom. He placed her carefully on the bed, taking care to turn her to her side, propped up with her back against the wall and a pillow in front of her to keep her from falling forward while he looked for something for her to wear. He stepped on something… a drawstring bag. It must have flown from her hand when he disarmed her, which reminded him…

He found her wand under the bed and placed it in the bag, which, unfortunately, did not contain a nightgown, though it did include a bottle of wine, which he hid, worried she would seek it upon waking as Septima suggested.

He then went to his dresser and found an overlarge black cotton shirt that he rarely wore because it was too casual for Hogwarts and he rarely went anywhere else, except on the Dark Lord's orders or to take Narcissa on dates at Muggle establishments. He removed her bra, knowing she didn't wear it to sleep, and pulled the shirt on over her head, gingerly slipping her arms through the holes, taking careful consideration of the injured arm.

He climbed into bed and repositioned them so that he had his back to the wall and she was facing out toward the door with her back to his chest. Keeping her on her side, he wrapped his arm around her waist, letting it rest approximately where he assumed the unborn baby was (female anatomy wasn't exactly something he'd studied in-depth, but he had a decent enough idea). He kissed her shoulder and waved his hand, extinguishing the light.

"I'm angrier at you than I've ever been, Narcissa," he informed her calmly, knowing full well even if she could hear him somewhere in her subconscious, she wouldn't remember this, same as that night in February. "I'm angry at you and I love you and I'm angry about how much I love you. Whether or not we keep this baby, you need help, because you're becoming a fucking mess, and I'm already a fucking mess, and any future offspring of ours _cannot_ have two fucking messes for parents. So I'm going to ensure you get help, whatever that might entail, and you're going to quit drinking entirely. You'll probably be angry about it, but I don't much care." He pressed his lips to her shoulder for a second time, breathing in the sweet familiar strawberry smell of her hair, and wished it were possible to fix all of their problems with a simple wave of their wands. She sighed in her sleep, relaxing against him. He held her closer, wondering if his earlier message in the notebook had contributed to her actions this evening. He wished he'd never sent it. He wished he'd never written it.

"Damn it, Narcissa." He closed his eyes. "How are we going to tell Lucius that I want to marry you?"

* * *

 **A/N:** So… not Narcissa's finest hour, so to speak. I'm sorry! I felt awful putting her through it, but sometimes a person has to hit rock bottom before she (or he) can truly take off down the path toward recovery… and if she'd going to end up keeping this baby (or even if she isn't, really!) she needs to truly accept her alcoholism and work to change it. Plus, I wanted to focus on Snape a bit. Anyway, I hope y'all don't hate me now. For what it's worth, I still love you! Lol:) Thanks for the follows, faves, and reviews! Individual responses below, as usual. **–AL**

 **Karli1252 -** Thank you! I think Draco is going to confront her eventually but I keep waffling back and forth about when, why, and how. I loved showing her strength in the last chapter so I'm glad you enjoyed seeing it, especially considering... well... this one. But she'll be okay, I promise!

 **Everything Hurts -** Thanks! I'm trying to update at least 1-2 times per week now that the chapters are so much longer than they used to be.

 **OutlawQueenFaith -** Thank you so much! I'm glad to have you as a new reader. In case it's not obvious, I love Snape and Narcissa together and wish there were more fics about them! If you know of any good ones, feel free to share because I'd love to check them out when this one is all uploaded.

 **Gg10678 (Guest) -** Glad you have an account now:) I love that you noticed the 'pass the stone' vase thing right away! Poor Lucius didn't... lol. I will let you in on a tiny secret about Dying for the Dark Lord... because it follows the end of the war from Bella's perspective (even the epilogue is sort of distanced from the characters in it) while everything in that fic also happened/happens in this one, with the POV changed things are not necessarily as they appear... (insert evil laughter here)

 **EmoEmpire -** Destroyed by the Dark Lord is still in the early stages of planning but I look forward to posting it, too! **  
**

 **Harry Hobbit -** Thx! The Severus/Bella scene that opens this chapter is just for you! lol, I hope you liked it! :)

 **Vani12 -** Thank you so much for your review! I really appreciated it. I wish he'd survived too. His death was the hardest for me in the whole series! Though Bellatrix came in a close second, followed by Hedwig and Dobby. Aughh JKR, WHHYYY?! But that aside... Severus is starting to warm up to parenthood... kind of. ;)

 **Elphaba8385 -** Thanks! Glad you're still reading!

 **Batman is Kawaii -** Thank you! Lucius will find out soon enough... not in the next chapter though, that much I'll reveal. I hope the fact that he loves her came through here, too, even though he was rough with her and ultimately abandoned her when she needed him, which is kind of the problem with their whole marriage.

 **Annika -** I wish he didn't have to die, but I've gotta keep it canon! I love him, though. Someday I think I'll write a fic about him surviving the war.

 **BigRed20 -** Thank you! I think she hopes so, too. ;)

 **Readdicted -** Thanks! :)


	45. April 29, 1998

**Chapter Forty-five – April 29** **th** **, 1998**

When Narcissa awoke, she was alone in Severus' bed at Hogwarts.

"How did I get here?" she muttered. She tried to sit up but her head felt like it was full of rocks. She pressed her palms to her closed eyelids. The sunlight streaming in from the window was too much.

"Merlin's beard…" She uncovered her eyes and squinted around the room. There were three potions bottles and a glass of water on the bedside table. Propped between two of them was a note. She plucked it off and read it with her head under the sheet, where the light was not so unbearably bright.

 _Good morning (or afternoon). You probably feel like the bludger at the end of a Quidditch match, thus I left you the following: Stomach Settling Solution (green bottle), a headache medication (blue bottle), the Draught of Peace (purple bottle; only consume half), and the water (drink all). I will be working in my office, though I'll have to step out for breakfast in the Great Hall and a weekly late lunch meeting with the four Heads of House. The house elves are laundering your dress – I apologize about the sleeve. We'll talk about this later._

 _With love, SS_

"Damn," she croaked, fumbling for the blue bottle. "All this information and not at word about where he keeps the liquor. I need… I think… just a bit of wine… might settle me better than a bunch of… Oh…" She glanced back down at the note. "There's a PS."

 _PS: I have removed all liquor from my chambers, including what you brought with you. Don't bother looking for it; you'll only be wasting your time. If you're thirsty, there's tea._

"Figures."

She downed the three potions one after another and chased them with the water. She tapped the glass with her wand, which he'd left on the table as well, and whispered, "Aquamenti" to refill it. By the time she finished the second glass, she was already starting to feel ever-so-slightly better, though she did use magic to close the blasted curtains to block out the irritating sun. A quick glance at the clock told her it wasn't as late as he'd probably expected her to sleep – only a few minutes after ten – which meant he was probably back from breakfast but hadn't yet left for lunch. She wondered how and when she'd arrived at Hogwarts. The last thing she vividly recalled was waiting for Lucius in the Master bedroom, bottle of wine in hand, around eight the night before. At least, she assumed it had been the night before. She couldn't possibly have slept more than 24 hours… right?

She stumbled into the loo, stopping upon catching sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was stringy and snarled, her skin was paler than usual and dull, and though she'd just awoken she could easily pass for a woman who hadn't slept in days.

"I look awful," she informed her reflection.

"You've certainly looked better!" her reflection replied.

"Bloody magic mirrors. Ugh. My entire body hurts." She glanced down at her left arm, which was wrapped in a white bandage from just below her shoulder all the way to just above her wrist. What was that about? She turned back to her reflection. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but that was probably from the crying. She remembered crying.

She used the bathroom, then washed her hands and face and tried to detangle her hair using Severus' black toothed comb. The potions were definitely working, but she still felt like shit. She's just finished doing a cleaning spell on her mouth with her wand, wishing she'd thought to bring her toothbrush (did she think to bring anything?) when she was overcome by the need to vomit. Doing so burned her esophagus and left her feeling shaky, worse than when she'd woken up. She did the cleaning spell again.

"I can't live like this," she muttered, which brought back a fragment of memory from the night before: Lucius saying the exact same thing, right before he threw her out.

Is that why she'd come to Hogwarts? Because Lucius threw her out?

But he didn't throw her out of Malfoy Manor, did he? Only out of the bedroom they used to share?

Why couldn't she _remember_?

"Fuck!" She made eye contact with herself in the mirror again. "How did I get here?"

"How did any of us get here, my dear?" asked the mirror. "A question for the ages."

"Shut up." She exited the bathroom, re-entered the bedroom, and crawled onto the bed. Part of her wanted to go back to sleep. Part of her wanted to find Severus. Part of her wanted to disappear entirely – not from Hogwarts, but from existence.

About a half hour after returning to bed, Narcissa, frustrated by her inability to sleep (and a general feeling of irritability) again forced herself up. She went back into the bathroom and took a shower, though she spent half of it sitting on the floor of the tub on account of her unrelenting dizziness and weak legs. The hot water felt good against her sore muscles, but soaked through her bandage, thus she removed it as she was toweling off.

"Shit," she swore when she saw the healing gash. It would almost certainly leave a scar. "How'd I get that?"

She used a spell to dry the bandage and rewrapped it, which wasn't ideal but would work for the time being, then, with nothing else to wear, pulled the oversized black shirt back on. Feeling chilly, she took Severus' soft moss green bathrobe off its hook on the back of the door and put that on, too. She tied her damp, two-toned hair into a messy low bun, an odd look for her, but like her attire and the bandage, it would have to do for now.

She then went into the sitting room, where she discovered a basket of croissants, a cup of tea, a saucer of milk, a plate of sugar cubes, and another note on the center of the coffee table.

 _You'll probably be hungry. Eat. Even if you're not hungry, try to eat. If you need something of more substance, snap your fingers to call a house elf. They can provide whatever you wish. In the interim, drink the tea. Have more water. If you're bored, there are a few magical mystery novels on the third shelf of the tallest bookcase (sorry, no Agatha here), the Daily Prophet is on top of what was, until this morning, the liquor cabinet, and there are puzzles, Gobstones, and a Wizards Chess set in the drawer under this table. Feel free to make yourself at home. But don't make it too much like_ _your_ _home – I seek to keep my sitting room free from Dark Lords, Dark Marks, Dark Magic, and deadly snakes (by which, of course, I am referring to your sister). With love, SS._

She giggled, set the parchment down, and reached for a buttery chocolate croissant, which she consumed alongside a cup of tea. She was pouring milk into her second cup of tea when she heard voices through the slightly ajar door that opened into his office. Curious, she slipped over, careful not to be heard in case he was meeting with fellow professors or members of the Ministry.

"But I have nothing to offer," Severus was saying vehemently.

"That's not at all true!" argued the familiar voice of Dilys Derwent. Ah, so he was conversing with the portraits. Still, Narcissa did not make her presence known, for fear others might be in the office too.

"At Malfoy Manor she has more safety and security…"

She bit her lip. So he was talking about _her_.

"How can you argue that, Severus?" asked Dumbledore's voice. "After all that's happened there, to her and to others? To Bellatrix? To Draco? To Charity Burbage and Ollivander and–"

"You think she'd be safer away from Lucius and her sister?" Severus interjected. "You think she'd be safer alone somewhere, in hiding perhaps? _No one_ is on our side, Dumbledore. Not the Death Eaters, not the Order, not the Ministry. I am in a precarious position which means she is, too."

"What about her other sister?" asked Dilys. "Didn't you say she has another sister? The one who married the Muggle? She could go there."

"Andromeda. They don't speak. They've seen each other maybe twice in twenty-five years, and not on friendly terms."

"A sure sign it's time for them to make amends!" insisted Dilys.

"I'm not sure that would go over well. Narcissa's husband recently murdered Andromeda's husband."

Narcissa clapped a hand over her mouth. It was one thing to suspect her husband had carried out the task of murdering her Muggleborn brother-in-law, but another to hear it confirmed.

"Dear me," said Dilys. "That's terrible."

"Certainly is!" sounded the grumpy voice of Phineas Nigellus Black. "We Blacks are many things, but we are not murderers like those Malfoys. To have married him sullies our family name."

"What do you mean, you're not murderers like the Malfoys?" asked the shrill Elizabeth Burke. "How many members of the Black ancestry were guilty of Muggle-hunting? More than I can count! And isn't Bellatrix Lestrange one of yours? But one rogue Malfoy makes us all murderers?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange was convicted of torture, not murder," Phineas Nigellus began, but abruptly he stopped speaking.

"Send her to Spinner's End!" suggested Dumbledore. Narcissa could picture him holding up a hand to calmly silence the others. "You'll need to establish a Secret Keeper to hide it…"

"Bellatrix already knows where it is."

"Bellatrix knew where Grimmauld Place was, too, but she couldn't get in so long as it was under the protection of Sirius Black and Harry Potter. You could be your own Secret Keeper."

"Do you think that's what she wants?" snapped Severus. "To be cooped up in that dusty, decrepit, depressing little house in a Muggle hovel, alone, while I'm tethered to this office?"

"So buy another house," said Dilys. "One you can share. Other professors have done it. When McGonagall was married, she stayed with her husband every other weekend, over every holiday, and during the summers. Didn't she, Dumbledore?"

"She did," he confirmed. "They had a very nice little place in Ottery St. Catchpole."

"I can't afford _a nice little place_ ," griped Severus. "Not on my salary, with no family money, and I couldn't expect her to get a job. She's used to… to having house elves and… and… and a library... and peacocks."

"Decent women do not base their love around who can offer them the most money, the finest house, or the most exotic pets," Dilys assured him, as behind the door, Narcissa felt a pang of sickness and anger directed at her mother, who had done precisely that.

"If you love her, you should be together," said Dumbledore. "To make excuses like these is a show of cowardice."

"Who are you to lecture me on this?" snapped Severus. "You've been a coward when it comes to love your whole life. You're not even alive anymore – you're a bloody portrait – and yet you're still afraid to speak with Minerva McGonagall because it makes you uncomfortable knowing how she felt about you!"

"My situation with Minerva is different," Dumbledore said slowly, carefully. "I loved her, but not in the way she wanted me to."

"Then you shouldn't have taken her to bed, you selfish man!" snapped Dilys.

"Wait, what?" exclaimed Severus, loudly enough to cover Narcissa's gasp from the other side of the door.

"It was one time, forty years ago. She deserved better then and deserves better now, and that's all I'll say on the subject," said Dumbledore, offering no further response to Dilys' admonishment.

"She did indeed deserve better," mumbled Dilys.

"Yes," agreed Severus. "And Narcissa deserves better." Narcissa felt another pang, this time in her heart, as she wondered how he could really think this when she adored him so. "How can I give her what she deserves without endangering her? This is precisely why I sent her that message yesterday. For as much as I love her, sometimes I wish I'd never kissed her in the first place."

Narcissa chewed her lip, fighting back the urge to cry. Or call out to him.

"You don't mean that," said a woman's voice, softly. Narcissa recognized it, but couldn't remember which former Headmistress she was. Antonia Creasworthy or Edessa Sakndenberg, she thought. The woman continued. "She's brought you happiness, hasn't she?"

"Yes," said Severus, not sounding happy at all. "But what I have brought her? Destabilization? I've ruined her marriage."

"Hurrumph!" came the unmistakable voice of Elizabeth Burke. "Who cares if she's brought him happiness, Antonia? She should keep her 'happiness' at home with her husband!"

"Hush, Elizabeth," said Antonia. "Severus, you've brought her happiness, too. It was plain as day the evening we met her. As for her marriage, it must have broken, or, at the very least, cracking, long before she began seeing you. Otherwise she wouldn't have begun seeing you."

"That's true," whispered Narcissa. She leaned against the wall, still feeling out of sorts from her hangover despite the potions and breakfast, the latter of which seemed to now be making her feel worse, not better.

"What does she see in me?" asked Severus, sounding injured.

"What do you think she sees in you?" asked Dumbledore. "Perhaps she sees a man who appreciates her for who she is as a person, not for her lineage or her looks."

"What if I'm merely a distraction? She's living under intense stress at the present. Perhaps she's confused. What if I'm a necessary escape and after the war ends she realizes this and believes she made a terrible mistake in falling for me? I have nothing to offer her and don't know what she sees in me. What if she has regrets? What if she blames me for ruining her life?"

"Do you truly think that's going to happen?" asked Dilys Derwent. Narcissa peeked through the door. She could see Severus at his desk, facing away from the portraits. "Do you think she'll suddenly regret having fallen for you?"

He shrugged. "She might."

"She won't," said Narcissa. She entered the office.

"Narcissa!" he exclaimed. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," she answered, leaning against the wall, unable to make it all the way to his desk. "Come talk to me?"

He glanced at Dumbledore's portrait briefly before nodding, rising, and joining her in the sitting room. He closed the door behind them, gently cupped her face, and kissed her.

"How much did you hear?" he asked once they'd parted.

"Long enough to know you think I'm only with you because I'm confused."

"I… I'm sorry," he said. "I was… thinking out loud, that's all."

"How can you think I'm only seeking an escape, Severus?" She let him lead her to the couch. She curled up beside him, covering them with the afghan that he'd left draped over it that morning, and rested her head against his shoulder, content in his arms. "How could you doubt that I love you?"

"I don't know," he said with a touch of annoyance. "Why _do_ you love me? I'm not wealthy, powerful, attractive, well-respected, well-liked, or from a prominent family… I'm not Lucius."

"If I wanted Lucius, I'd be home, like Elizabeth Burke says I should be. But I don't. I want you. You're brilliant, Severus. And witty. Sardonic. Considerate. Secretly softhearted. Respectful and respectable. Romantic."

"I am _not_ romantic," he insisted, going slightly pink.

"You took me out dancing at that upscale Muggle jazz club for my birthday and taught me to Foxtrot. It was the most romantic date I've ever been on." She pushed his hair back away from his face, unwilling to let him hide behind it. "And you're multifaceted, remember? We have similar interests – potion making and cooking and reading mysteries – plus you introduced me to theatre and cinema, and you're the bravest man I've ever met. Oh, and I happen to think you're attractive, too. Not to mention good in bed."

He smirked, remembering how he'd told Septima just last night Narcissa only liked him because he was good-looking and good in bed. Maybe he wasn't so far off.

"Alright," he said, ready to compromise. "I'll accept multifaceted, brave, sardonic, brilliant, and good in bed, in addition to our mutual interests. But the rest – witty, considerate, softhearted, respectful, respectable, attractive, and especially _romantic_ – are lies you've told yourself to feel better about having gone to bed with me on the regular for over two years."

"Are you teasing me or are you genuinely unwilling to believe so many positives about yourself?" asked Narcissa. "I thought I was the insecure one in this relationship."

He closed his eyes, pressed his lips to her forehead, and counted to ten mentally before answering. "Narcissa, I was not a popular child, remember? I had one friend. She cut me out of her life and later married the man I hated more than anyone in the world, save, perhaps, for that man's best mate. At Hogwarts my nickname, created by your cousin, was Snivellus, which made even my fellow Slytherins snicker until I received the Dark Mark, thus finally commanding a bit of respect from my peers and a bit of attention from status-seeking women, but it certainly didn't bring me any genuine affection. My students have always hated me, I'm arguably the most despised Headmaster in Hogwarts History, and most of the Wizarding world would agree I'm their enemy; the Order thinks I'm a traitor for murdering Dumbledore while the Death Eaters question my loyalty on a regular basis. People think I'm a coward, a killer, a terrible dresser…"

Even though her heart was breaking over his self-assessment, she could help the tiniest giggle. "A terrible dresser? Stop it. Who says you're a terrible dresser?"

"Some student, earlier today…" Severus slipped a bit of rolled parchment out of the pocket, unfurled it, and handed it to Narcissa. "This was blown up and affixed to the wall outside the Great Hall this morning."

On the parchment was a rather crude drawing of a hideous man in billowing black robes. Each part of his anatomy was labeled, from "Greasy hair" to "Huge nose" to "Flat arse" and "Bird legs."

"Well, now, this isn't true." She pointed to a label that went from a line to his groin. On the line were the words, "Tiny trouser snake."

"I was referring to this part." He tapped the bottom.

 **WANTED FOR CRIMES AGAINST FASHION:**

 **MIXES SHADES OF BLACK, NO SENSE OF STYLE. POSSIBLY WEARS EXACT SAME ROBES EVERY DAY. LOOKS LIKE OVERGROWN BAT. HAS BEEN SEEN FLAPPING ABOUT THE CORRIDORS.**

 **CONSIDERED ARMED AND DANGEROUS(LY UGLY).**

 **APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION.**

It was signed, " **Dumbledore's Army: Still Recruiting**."

"If I didn't know better, I'd blame the Weasley twins, but since I took over this year it seems I'm surrounded by Weasleys."

"You mean redheaded blood-traitors?"

"I mean idiots who think they're clever. In the Weasley twins' defense, though, they actually _were_ quite clever. One of their puking pastilles got me out of a jam a few months back when I slipped it to Dolohov."

"One of their what?"

"Doesn't matter. The point is I'm not exactly the well-respected, well-liked type you're used to. So yes, sometimes, especially when I have too much time to think, I worry your head will clear once the war ends and you'll realize I was nothing but a necessary distraction from the drama and stress of everyday life in the Dark Lord's headquarters, and you'll regret having been with me, break it off, and move on. I worry that having a baby by me means you won't be able to break it off without consequence, should you desire to do so. I don't want to trap you. I mean, fuck, Narcissa, I'm nearly forty and you're the first woman to ever love me. I'm not even certain my own mother really loved me. Is it any surprise I'm not brimming with self-confidence?"

"Yes," she whispered, stroking his pale cheek. "Because I don't see you that way. The way I described you is the way I see you. You know what I love about you? You're darkly funny. You make me laugh. You listen to me. You care about what I say. You talk to me as though I'm your equal."

"You are my equal," he interjected.

"I'm over forty too, darling, and no man has _ever_ treated me as his equal before. You told me I never owe anyone sex – do you know how contrary that is to the messages I've been sent my entire life? – and you agreed to risk your life to protect my child. You're always looking for ways to make me smile, whether it's through our little notes or the few dates we've managed to sneak out on, then you took care of me last night – I got your notes – and you make me feel like I _matter_ , so it kills me to think I haven't made you feel as though _you_ matter, too. It hurts to think you're legitimately worried that I'm confused and going to regret this later. There's a part of me that will always love my husband for what we had, just as I can accept you will always love Lily, but Severus, I have had a lot of time to think, too, and I can honestly say I was never in love with Lucius the way I am with you and I didn't even know it because I had no idea I could feel this way. I'd risk everything – I'd get divorced, I'd beg forgiveness from Andromeda, I'd live alone in that house you hate, I'd even turn my back on the Dark Lord and not care who knows it – if it meant I could spend my life with you."

"It's you who's the romantic," he said, pulling her into his lap so that she was straddling him, the way she had so many times on his couch at the home on Spinner's End. He placed his fingertips gently against her cheeks. "Don't turn your back on the Dark Lord. He'll kill you without a second thought. Let's save a reconciliation with your sister for after the war. And I don't want you alone in that house…" He leaned forward, placing a quick peck on her lips. "But I love you, too. We'll figure out a way. A way to be together _and_ keep you safe. Last night, I…" He paused wondering whether he should start that discussion by explaining the note he'd sent her, or by telling her what he'd told Septima, or by his admission that he wanted to marry her. "I was worried about you. I was afraid you'd managed to drink yourself to death. What happened? Was it because of what I wrote?"

"What did you write?"

"You haven't read it yet?"

"No. Did you answer the question I'd written? I haven't checked the notebook since I responded to you early yesterday morning."

"I had answered, yes, but don't worry over it. I was having a moment of…" He paused, not sure how to explain and ultimately deciding it was best not to. "It doesn't matter. Don't read it. But if that wasn't what sparked this… _incident_ … what happened last night?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. One moment I was alone in my bedroom at Malfoy Manor and the next I was in your bed with this hangover." She pressed her palms to her temples. "I may need more of those potions."

"You don't remember how you got here?"

"Not at all." She frowned, trying to piece together the events of the night before. "I remember fighting with Lucius. I was angry. He was angry. He slept with Hortensia, but that's not why I confronted him. I remember telling him I hated him."

Severus felt a wave of anger, recalling the red marks Septima had noticed on her wrists the night before. "Did he hurt you?"

"I… I don't think so." She closed her eyes, still struggling to make sense of her fragmented memories. "I think… I'd been drinking, clearly… I was waiting for him in our bedroom when he returned home… We had a row… He pinned me down on the bed…"

"He pinned you down on the bed?" A second wave of anger crashed over him as he envisioned himself strangling to death his once-closest friend.

"He… I… I'd been hitting him. I started it." She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. "I… he tried to take a bottle from me. Vodka, I think. So I was hitting him. He knocked the bottle away…" It was becoming clearer to her now. "The bottle landed on the floor but I… I don't think it broke. I tried to hit him again and he grabbed me. He pinned me face-down on the bed. He put his knee on my back…"

Severus rubbed her back soothingly, but his jaw twitched. Where was this going? What had Lucius done to her?

"He told me… he said… I think he told me my drinking is a… a problem. He said I'm not allowed to drink anymore… or… or he'd… have me committed…"

"And then?"

"And then… I think that's when I told him I want a divorce."

"You what?" He brushed his thumb gently against her cheek. She opened her eyes, meeting his.

"I told him I want a divorce. Then he handed me a bottle of wine and threw me out."

"He threw you out of Malfoy Manor?"

"He threw me out of the bedroom. I don't recall leaving Malfoy Manor."

He couldn't help letting out a sigh of relief. Lucius hadn't hit her, or choked her, or worse. Since she'd been the aggressor, Severus supposed pinning her down was simply her husband's way of subduing her. He still didn't like it, though.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

She closed her eyes again, unable to look at him. "Drinking. I wanted to be drunk."

"Mission accomplished," he said sardonically. "You assaulted your husband, he threw you out, then you splinched yourself, now you've got a hangover, and you may have given our baby brain damage, but you succeeded in your goal of getting drunk. I hope it was worth it."

"That seems unnecessarily harshly put," she said quietly. She placed one hand on her belly, leaning back on his knees. "Do you really think I gave our baby brain damage?"

He replied with not an answer, but with his own question.

"Do you intend to take the potion? I brewed it. It'll be ready later today. Will you take it?"

"I… I don't know," she said, her voice small, wishing more than anything else that he'd tell her he didn't want her to take it so she didn't have to be the one to say it and forever wonder if he regretted her decision. "I haven't decided."

"You can't keep drinking." He wrapped his arms more securely around her, hoping holding her would soften the blow of his next words. "Lucius was right about that. You're done. Whether we keep this baby or not, you have to promise me, you're through with alcohol."

"I won't get pissed like that again, I promise, but a little wine on occasion–"

"No."

"Just a glass, or–"

"No."

"Even half, once or twice a week. It's good for the heart–"

"No."

"No?" She wished she hadn't thrown her hair into a bun. Her index finger was itching to twirl it.

"No. You're not going to poison our baby, that is not an option, but even if you take the potion today, you absolutely may not ever again allow yourself to become... to…" he trailed off, realizing he was speaking to her as if she were a naughty student, the same was Lucius often did, and feeling guilty for it. He changed tactics. "Why did you want to get drunk?"

"I… it's… I… It's not… I don't… I mean…"

He sighed. "Narcissa, I need you to tell me. Be honest. I won't be angry."

"I'm trying to tell you! I'm… just… afraid. Once I've told you, you'll look at me differently."

"I won't," he swore, even though he worried it might be a lie.

She started by explaining her question to Bellatrix at lunch and about all Bella revealed. She told him how betrayed she felt when she learned that Lucius knew, though she gave him a due credit for assuring her that her blood status wouldn't have changed anything. She admitted that she'd picked the fight with him because she needed a direction in which to concentrate her hurt and anger. She confessed that she'd continued to drink after he kicked her out because she wanted to forget everything.

"My childhood, my mother's selfishness, my name, everything. I wanted to make it all go away. I'm sorry, Severus. I'm sorry – I didn't think about the baby, not at all. I didn't even consider…" Narcissa's voice cracked and she couldn't finish her sentence.

"I believe I can help you," Severus said.

"You can help me stop drinking?"

"I hope so. But that's not what I meant. I believe I can help you with… this. Come into the office with me. I can't use Legilimency to show you one of my memories, but there is a way…"

Bewildered, she followed him out of the sitting room, over to a large stone Penseive.

"I've never seen one before," she breathed, still feeling sick, but excited to see how it worked.

"Give me your hand." He held hers in one of his, using the other to bring his wand to his temple. He extracted a long silvery thread and directed it into the basin. He leaned over it, coaxing her to do the same. "Trust me."

She found herself clutching his hand as if for dear life as they pitched forward. They landed in none other than the rarely used Drawing Room of Malfoy Manor, which is where they used to throw all of their lavish parties.

"Draco's fifth birthday," she said, glancing around. "There's little Millie Bulstrode, her father's standing with Walden Macnair, and that's Amycus and Alecto's sister Anthea over there, remember her? She's talking to the Rowles. There's Lucius with Igor Karkaroff, only time he came to visit, I never much liked him. And… and…" Her eyes widened as she spotted a familiar face across the room, one she hadn't seen in over ten years. "And there's my mother."

Druella was seated on one of many ornate couches, chatting with Irma Black, Narcissa's paternal grandmother, elderly Lita Lestrange, related to Bellatrix through marriage, and Millicent Bulstrode's spinster great-aunt, Edith, a longtime friend of both the Black and Malfoy families.

"She died a few months later," said Narcissa, pointing to her grandmother. "I wonder if she knew about… me… Oh!" Narcissa gasped. "There I am!"

"And there I am," said Severus, gesturing toward the opposite wall, where he stood all in black looking uncomfortable and bored and, well, a bit like an overgrown bat. Narcissa's face spread into a grin as the Snape in the memory noticed her walking in, holding hands with Draco, and swept his eyes over her body from head to toe.

"Look at you, looking at me!" Narcissa grinned at him.

He shook his head. "I noticed your dress, that's all. It was… nice."

"Sure, alright."

"Fine," said Severus. "I was looking at you. You looked beautiful."

"I know," said Narcissa, puffing up a bit. "I'd finally lost enough of the baby weight to feel good about the way I looked. I felt pretty."

"You were pretty. You are pretty. Even with the baby weight, you were pretty." He kissed her cheek. "But that's not why we're here. Move this way. Listen."

Holding hands with Severus, Narcissa watched the events unfold with a sense of happy nostalgia.

 _Thirty-year-old Narcissa was fixing a squirming five-year-old Draco's tiny bowtie._

Severus led her toward the far wall.

 _"_ _Hold still, Lovey, almost done."_

 _"_ _Mummy! I want to go play with my friends!" whined Draco._

 _"_ _There, it's perfect." She hugged him before straightening up._

 _"_ _Am I handsome?" he asked, poking the bow tie with one finger. "Do I look like Father?"_

 _"_ _The handsomest," Narcissa assured him. "If you were only a bit taller, I'd get you two confused."_

 _Draco beamed. "Thanks, Mummy!" he called, rushing off to join his friends, who were playing Exploding Snap at the other end of the room._

 _Narcissa watched him go, smiling, then glanced around suddenly uncomfortable, not knowing what to do with herself. Thankfully, Millicent Bulstrode's mother approached her and began making conversation._

Severus tugged on Narcissa's arm, drawing her attention away from her younger self, gesturing toward the people he wanted her to overhear. Standing not far away were Lucius' mother, Claudia, and Claudia's sister Catheryn. They were speaking in hushed tones.

 _"_ _He's a charming boy, Claudia. Do you think they'll have more?"_

 _"_ _I don't much care anymore," answered Claudia, sneering. "Thank all that is magic she didn't have a girl, otherwise we'd likely never have had an heir. She's lost a couple, one before Draco and one after, but my Lucius wants a daughter and I don't think she's truly making the effort. It's been thirteen interminably long years since they married and I dislike her even more now than I did when she sunk her claws into my only son."_

"This is what you wanted me to see?" Narcissa asked Severus, squeezing his hand. "My mother-in-law telling her sister she hates me?"

"No. Keep listening."

 _"_ _But surely little Draco makes it all worth it?" asked Catheryn with concern._

 _"_ _Well, yes," conceded Claudia. "He's simply darling, a little prince. He's got Lucius' nose, his chin, his shoulders, his personality – the spitting image of his father, save for those eyes. As insufferable as I find Narcissa, I must give credit where it is due: she is attractive, reasonably intelligent but not an intellectual, and from a prominent family, which were top of our list when envisioning a wife for our son. In that respect, it was a decent match." She lowered her voice even more. "Almost didn't happen, though."_

 _Catheryn leaned in conspiratorially. "Why not?"_

 _"_ _Cath, my dear sister, how I wanted to tell you then, but Abraxas swore me to secrecy to protect the Malfoy name, just in case."_

 _"_ _Just in case what?"_

Narcissa and Severus watched as the Snape in the memory inched forward, eavesdropping.

 _"_ _Lucius was hellbent on marrying her so we had her investigated, of course."_

 _"_ _Of course! We're preparing to do the same for Horatio now. He says he wants to propose to the girl he's been seeing since shortly after leaving Durmstrang. We want him to wait a little longer, we have reservations about her, but if he's serious…"_

 _"_ _Let me give you the name of the agency we used. Remind me before you leave. They're wonderful. Back to Narcissa…" Again, Claudia dropped her voice. Snape had to inch closer, his back to the wall, never allowing his eyes to dart in their direction, but clearly listening._

 _"_ _Yes?"_

 _"_ _We had her investigated and discovered her father, Orion Black, didn't leave her a single sickle of inheritance money, though he bequeathed a considerable sum to each of her two sisters. We wanted to know why, naturally."_

 _"_ _Naturally."_

 _"_ _And that's when we discovered her mother – the slag – had had herself an affair some thirty years ago, one that might have resulted in Narcissa."_

 _"_ _No!"_

 _"_ _Yes! The man later became her stepfather but we never met him; he's been dead for years. Name of Piers Travers."_

Present day Narcissa nearly threw up at this. It had been many, many years since she'd heard anyone speak the man's name and it sparked in her an even more visceral reaction than it ever had before, considering.

 _"_ _You've heard the name Travers. He was Constance and Cordelia's cousin. Remember them from Durmstrang?"_

 _"_ _Yes, of course. We were the only four students from the UK in the entire school! So this man was their cousin? But wouldn't he have been pureblood too?"_

 _"_ _Though he came from a long line of purebloods on his father's side, his mother was…" Claudia's eyes darted from one end of the room to the other to ensure they weren't being overheard, but she (like many witches) looked right past Severus, not noticing him. "She was Muggleborn. He and his younger brother are the reason the Travers are no longer among the Sacred 28."_

 _"_ _No!"_

 _"_ _Yes! His parents met at Durmstrang. They were about a decade ahead of us."_

 _"_ _A Muggleborn got into Durmstrang?"_

 _"_ _I was shocked, too! But their standards have been slipping for a century."_

 _"_ _So glad Horatio is done and the others aren't far behind. We knew it wasn't the ideal school it used to be, but anything is better than Hogwarts under Dumbledore."_

 _Claudia did not respond to this, likely because she had been perfectly content to send her son to Hogwarts, despite Dumbledore, and didn't want to fight about it. "Well, when we learned Travers might be the girl's actual father, as you can imagine, we were panicked. Marrying a Black is noble and appropriate, but marrying the daughter of a man with a Muggleborn mother?"_

 _"_ _I cannot imagine the humiliation," said Catheryn sympathetically. "Why, if it were true, your grandson would carry on the Malfoy name with dirty blood!"_

 _"_ _Precisely!"_

 _"_ _But they're married! What happened? Did her mother somehow prove her parentage?"_

 _"_ _Abraxas and I tried to break the engagement off, but her mother, the conniving slag, insisted instead upon a dowry and threatened to tell the Daily Prophet our son had…" She broke off, realizing she'd almost admitted Narcissa had been pregnant when she wed Lucius. "Our son had become engaged to a filthy Mudblood. Not even a remarkable one either, not that we would've overlooked it, but you know, some of Grindelwald's supporters were mixed, but denounced their impure sides so it happens – but Lucius didn't care! He said he'd marry her no matter what, so we relented for the moment, digging deeper into the investigation. If only we'd known then what we know now – how useless she is, how unwilling to reproduce another child, how incapable she is of even caring for the one they have, even though motherhood is literally all that is expected of her – we might have simply told him no, she wasn't a choice."_

Beside Severus, Narcissa silently seethed. Her mother-in-law was a nightmare. Why was he showing her this? How could it possibly make her feel better about what had transpired the evening before?

 _"_ _So what did you do?" asked Catheryn, excited by this juicy gossip._

 _"_ _Well as I indicated, we did more research, of course."_

 _"_ _Of course."_

 _"_ _We discovered there is a place in America where they have developed a potion that can test one's parentage. All we needed was a bit of hair from her, hair from someone directly in her mother's line, and hair from someone directly in her father's. I plucked a hair from Druella's head when she brought her daughter here to discuss their upcoming nuptials, and Abraxas managed to get one from Narcissa at the same time, but to get one from her father's side proved tricky. I ended up having to go to her paternal grandmother, Irma Black." She gestured toward the aging woman on the couch, even though Catheryn had met her a number of times before. "She was furious over the notion the girl might not be her granddaughter and gave up a hair willingly to prove otherwise, insisting our investigator must have made a mistake. We sent the hair and five-hundred-fifty galleons to a place in New York City. We didn't receive the results until they were on their honeymoon. I tell you, it was such a relief not to have to fight to have the marriage annulled."_

 _"_ _So Orion Black was indeed her father?"_

 _"_ _He was."_

 _"_ _Thank goodness!" Catheryn emitted a dramatic sigh. "Did you tell her mother?"_

 _"_ _Absolutely not!" Claudia glared across the room at Druella, who had left the couch and was now sipping champagne while doting over Draco. "She doesn't deserve to know. It wouldn't have even been a question if she hadn't been an abomination of a wife. Cheating is a man's right, not a woman's. And with a half-blood! To be a Black and_ marry _a half-blood! I don't care how far back the Travers family goes, there's no way she was unaware of his blood-status. So let her suffer not knowing the truth. Let the girl go without her rightful inheritance. She has all that she needs provided for her by Lucius. Why secure more money for her so she can hand it over to her blackmailing mother?"_

"That's all," said Severus softly. He took Narcissa's hand, gave it a tug, and backward they tumbled, out of the Penseive.

"You knew all that?" Narcissa stared at him with a mix of hurt, relief, and revulsion. "Why were you eavesdropping in the first place?"

"I didn't have much to do at parties. Lucius was entertaining more important wizards than I, I didn't have a girlfriend nor was I going to find one there, I was never much good with kids, and, frankly, I was bored. Eavesdropping gave me something to do."

"Why didn't you tell me? Or Lucius?"

"I never had reason to. To be honest, I didn't even remember it until you were in the middle of your story."

"I got completely wasted for nothing," said Narcissa, sounding at once comforted and annoyed.

"Promise me you won't do it again," said Severus. "Promise me."

"I promise."

"And you won't go looking for liquor while I'm out? Not that you'd find it, but I want to know you won't go looking."

"Darling, I promise." She brushed her lips softly against his, which he quickly turned into a series of heated, passionate kisses, right there on the floor of his office. His hand was just snaking up her front to her breast when their snog session was cut short by Elizabeth Burke, who exclaimed, "For goodness sakes, go someplace private if you're going to do that!"

Severus pulled away, glanced at the clock, and sighed. "I hate to do this, but…"

"But?"

"But I need to leave in a moment." He stood, reaching down a hand to guide her up after him. As he explained, they made their way back to the sitting room. "I have that lunch meeting with the Heads of House, followed by an hour of moodily patrolling the corridors seeking out misbehaving students, and then what should be a brief meeting with the Carrows. I'll be gone for about two or three hours. Are you hungry? I could have something sent up from the kitchens."

"I'll pick at another croissant if I get hungry. Honestly, I feel a bit sick. I may go back to bed. Do you have more of that Stomach Settling Solution?"

"I do. In that cabinet…" He pointed to one by the bookcase. "Third shelf, second from the right, you'll recognize it."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry." He pressed his lips briefly to hers, wishing he didn't have to go. "I'm sorry for what you went through last night and I'm sorry I have to leave you here alone. Please be sure to keep the sitting room door closed and locked. My office is open to staff and while I do not expect any visitors, it would be rather difficult to explain should one of them come in and find you here."

"Understandable." She settled back on the couch and wrapped the afghan around her shoulders. "I'll wait for you."

"We'll have dinner together." He leaned down to kiss her goodbye. She placed her hand on the back of his head as her lips parted, prolonging the kiss, not at all looking forward to his departure. "Perhaps later I'll teach you to play poker."

"I look forward to it, Love."

Too soon, he was gone.

Severus spent the entirety of his lunch meeting with Minerva, Horace, Fillius, and Pomona feeling distracted and out of sorts. He was worried about Narcissa, alone in his chambers, with a hangover, a lot to process in regards to the memory he'd shown her, and nothing much else to do.

Shortly after he'd gone, Narcissa went to the cupboards to retrieve the Stomach Settling Solution, but before she'd even uncorked it she was overwhelmed by the feeling she was going to be ill. She rushed to the bathroom and made it just in time to vomit in the toilet rather than on the floor.

"You're upset with me, aren't you?" she asked the unborn baby as she straightened up and moved to the sink to rinse out her mouth. "You have every right to be. But I love you, and I never meant you any harm. You can forgive me, can't you?"

The nausea hit her again but this time she could only dry-heave. Painfully.

"Okay, little one, I get it. I'll be a much better mother going forward, I promise."

Feeling shaky and cold, Narcissa crawled back into bed. She used her wand to light a fire, downed the Stomach Settling Solution, and tried to doze off, but sleep aluded her. She felt anxious, as if something terrible were about to happen, but she didn't know what. Her head was pounding – she should have asked for more potion to combat that – and her muscles ached.

She tossed and turned in his bed, replaying over and over again in her head the memory he'd shown her, and her fight with Lucius, and the conversation with Bellatrix, all frequently interrupted by flashes of imagery from her childhood:

 _Mother whipping her when she wet the bed… Stepfather forcing Bella to unbutton her nightgown… Andromeda calling her a baby… Grandmother Black scolding her for mispronouncing Rs and Ls as if she was doing it on purpose… Nearly getting Sorted into Hufflepuff… Being invited to join the Slug Club… Lucius asking her out for the first time… Discovering he was interested in Eleanor Nott… Getting knocked up at seventeen… Dropping out of school… Losing that first baby… Giving birth at St. Mungos… Holding her newborn for the first time… Battling back the urge to cover his tiny face with that pillow…_

She tossed and turned, squinting her eyes shut, feeling increasingly agitated by the flickering light of the fire and the sound of it crackling, which grated on her ears, and overwhelmed by all the memories she couldn't escape.

 _Bellatrix being sentenced to Life in prison for torturing the Longbottoms… Endora Selwyn informing her of the affair … Mother dying when Draco was seven… Visiting Azkaban to inform her sister… Fighting with her husband about where to educate their son… Sending her little boy off on the Hogwarts Express… The pain of returning to Malfoy Manor without him…_

Her heart raced as she became trapped in a place somewhere between awake and dreaming.

 _Learning of her husband's arrest from the Prophet… The Dark Lord assigning Draco the task of killing Dumbledore… Taking the abortion potion… Making the Unbreakable Vow… Snape throwing her out of his office after she insulted Lily's eyes… Being forced to lie down on a bed of broken glass… The front of her dress sliced open… Lying straight to the face of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… Wondering whether He would murder her…_

She whimpered, trying to force her eyes open, but the lids were too heavy. She couldn't escape. There was no escape.

 _Telling Severus she was pregnant… Realizing he wanted her to get rid of it… Finding out she might be the daughter of the man who'd spent eight years molesting her… Confronting her husband… Demanding a divorce… Drinking herself nearly to death…_

 _Waking up in the bed of her lover…_

 _Overhearing his conversation with the portraits…_

 _Promising she wouldn't drink anymore…_

 _Wanting nothing more than to extricate herself from the blankets and go in search of liquor…_ _just a few sips to take the edge off._

But she couldn't.

She'd promised.

Besides, he'd said she wouldn't find any, so she'd be wasting her time.

And to get up, she'd have to be able to open her eyes.

She didn't have the energy to open her eyes.

By the time Severus returned, Narcissa was a mess. She had finally gotten out of bed, not feeling rested at all, and her agitation was at a exceptionally heightened level. A house elf had returned her freshly laundered dress (missing a sleeve) but she hadn't bothered to put it on. She was pacing back and forth, wishing he'd left more of that headache medication.

"Are you alright, Narcissa?"

"I just… I just… I just…" She choked back panicked sobs. "I can't stop thinking. I can't stop worrying. I can't stop trembling. All I can think… terrible thoughts… terrible… terrible…"

"Narcissa?" He rushed to her, hugged her, and held her at arm's length, trying to assess the situation. "Have you been drinking?"

"I wish," she answered, her voice shaking. "If I had… maybe… only a bit… only a bit to calm me down…"

"I'll give you the rest of the Draught of Peace."

"I can't… I'm dizzy… I threw up breakfast and threw up lunch and… and… feel!" She grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest. "My heart is racing."

Severus nodded. He'd half-expected this. After his meeting with the Carrows, which went even much more quickly than he'd anticipated (they swore they'd cut down on punishing students by making them perform the Cruciatus on each other) he very briefly stopped by Septima Vector's office, told her Narcissa had awoken with a hangover, revealed he'd made her promise to quit drinking entirely, and asked what to expect.

"The severity of her withdrawal will be dependent upon how much she typically drinks and for how long she's been addicted to it," Septima had said. She'd gone on to list possible reactions. High anxiety, tremors, and a strong desire to drink again were top of the list.

"Severus." Narcissa clung to the front of his robes. "I've been hungover before but never like this… I'm freezing… I tried to read but can't concentrate… I can't sleep. My head is full of lead and fog. And I'm frightened. I don't know why but I feel frightened."

"Come here." He scooped her up, carried her to the couch, and held her in his arms. He pulled the afghan over them. "We'll get through it together."

"Just a little, Severus. Just a bit of something – wine, elf made wine, red. Not even half a glass, that's all I need to get through tonight, and then I'll never touch it again, I swear."

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said no."

"Why are you hurting me?" She scrambled off of him, curling up on the opposite end of the couch, glaring in his direction. "Why do you want me to suffer? Why do you hate me so?"

"What do I hate you? You think I hate you?" She nodded. He tried not to be wounded by this. "You want wine?"

"Yes, just a bit. I only need a bit!"

"Stay here." He exited to his office, tapped the bottom left drawer with his wand, and pulled out the half-empty bottle of wine he'd taken from her the night before. He next went to the small cauldron simmering in the corner, filled a vial with the abortion-inducing potion, corked it, and returned to the sitting room. He placed both the wine bottle and the abortion potion on the coffee table.

"If you want this…" He tapped the wine bottle. "Drink this first." He touched the vial.

"That's the potion," said Narcissa, looking pained. "I don't… I don't want to…"

"If you're going to drink, you're not going to do it with my baby inside you," he said, recalling the last line of Septima's advice ("You may have to be cruel to be kind."). "Now, to be clear, whether you take the potion or not, we will be working on your drinking problem because I don't wish to see you destroy yourself. But I have it on good authority that you can't overcome your addiction until you're willing to work toward sobriety, thus if you're not ready, I can accept it and will give you the wine. Only if you are certain you don't want the baby."

"But I do want the baby."

"Then you don't want the wine."

"But I do want the wine!"

"You cannot have both."

"Why do you hate me?" she asked a second time, fighting back tears.

"I don't," he answered simply. "I love you. And I don't want you to take this potion."

"You… you don't?"

"No."

Apprehensively, she inched back toward him. When she was close enough, he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

"I want you, Narcissa. I want to be with you. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up with you and I want this baby with you. But if you're not ready for that…"

"No!" She hugged him, letting the tears stream freely down her cheeks. "I am ready. Or maybe I'm not, but I'll make myself be ready. I don't want to take that potion, Severus. I don't want it. I want you and I want our baby. I want… I…" Unable to finish the thought, she broke down, shaking with sobs, prompting him to hold her more tightly. "I don't want to be so damaged, Severus. I don't know how this happened. I don't want to be an alcoholic."

"I know you don't want to be an alcoholic." He rubbed her back as her tears wet his shirt. "And for what it's worth, I don't think you're damaged."

He rocked her gently for some time, until her tears had subsided, leaving her feeling oddly calm.

"What now, Love? How do I… how will I get better?"

"I'm told the first day is the hardest. After that, we'll take it one day at a time."

They stayed like that on the couch, simply holding each other and talking, for nearly two hours. To distract her from her desire to drink, he steered the conversation in a positive direction, mostly telling her about his day and asking questions about when Draco was small (bragging about her sweet, handsome, perfect little boy never failed to put a smile on her face).

When she started to become agitated or anxious he held her hand and kissed her wrist and smoothed her hair, and tried to calm her, wishing there was something more he could do, but Septima had assured him the best he could offer was to be present, especially for the first twenty-four hours.

Eventually Severus was hungry so he and Narcissa ordered dinner from a house elf. Though she hadn't realized it, she was famished, and for the first time all day food actually made her feel better. Once they'd finished and the empty plates had Vanished seemingly on their own accord, she took more of the Stomach Settling Solution and headache potion, saving one dose each of the Draught of Peace and Dreamless Sleep for bedtime. She wasn't quite feeling up to learning poker, so he went into his bedroom and found the one Agatha Christie mystery he currently had with him at Hogwarts, The Murder at the Vicarage. He read it aloud to her.

"'It is difficult to know quite where to begin this story, but I have fixed my choice on a certain Wednesday at luncheon at the Vicarage…'"

"I love the sound of your voice, Severus. I could listen to you read all night."

The mystery just happened to be about a widely-despised wealthy colonel named Lucius Protheroe, featuring a mysterious woman named Mrs. Lestrange.

"Are you certain you didn't write this? Mrs. Lestrange has come to blackmail Lucius, he's the most hated man in town, and she may have had an affair with the doctor? A doctor is a mediwitch, right?"

"More like a Healer. And no, I didn't write it, but I thought you'd find those coincidences interesting."

When he'd read so long his voice was growing hoarse, she took over. Her hands had stopped trembling and she was able to concentrate, as the dizziness and nausea had finally dissipated. Once she, too, was having difficulty reading aloud, he suggested they finish the book the following evening and retire.

He undressed down to his undershorts while she remained in the long, black shirt she'd been wearing all day. She let down her hair, which was still slightly damp from her morning shower, and he lent her an extra toothbrush. They were both too mentally tired and worn out to be intimate, but when she suggested he cuddle her he did not respond by reminding her that he does not cuddle (or, for that matter, snuggle). Rather, he pulled her close, happy to have her rest her head against his shoulder, her hand on the center of his bare chest, with his arms securely around her.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," he said. The low timbre of his semi-hoarse voice made her shiver in a good way. "You only wanted someone to talk to, someone to desire and fulfill you, and I only wanted…"

"You only wanted?"

He smiled. "Honestly? I just wanted to go to bed with you."

"For how long?" She glanced up at him, her wide gray eyes looking silver in light from the fire. "For how long had you wanted to go to bed with me? I know you must have thought about it before I approached you or you wouldn't have said yes quite so easily."

"You saw the way I looked at you in that memory," he answered softly. "You've always been a beautiful woman, Narcissa. I never would have pursued you, but I can't pretend I never thought about what it would be like to…" He shrugged one shoulder.

"So it wasn't supposed to be this way." She smiled. "And now?"

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

"Now I'm perhaps more confused than I've ever been, because I know in my rational mind that this is dangerous…"

"You keep saying that…"

"But when I tell my rational mind to be quiet and leave me alone, all I can think about is the life I want to share with you. If only the bloody war was over…"

"But it isn't. And it may not be for some time."

"I know."

He pulled her on top of him and she nestled her face into his neck. He breathed in. Even though she'd showered at his place that morning, he could still make out the faint smell of her usual strawberry shampoo. She propped herself up just enough to whisper into his ear, making the hair on his arms stand on edge.

"What turned you away from the Dark Lord, Severus? Was it when He murdered Lily Potter? Or was it before that?"

"It was before that," said Severus, for the first time truly admitting to her that he held no loyalty to the Dark Lord. "It was when I realized He would kill her… because of me. Because of what I told Him. Because of what I'd overheard, that damned prophecy. I begged Him to spare her and He said He would but I didn't believe Him, so I did all I could to try to save her by going to Dumbledore, who forced them into hiding… and once He found them, thanks to that rat Wormtail, the Dark Lord ordered her to step aside, but ultimately He did not spare her. Obviously."

"Tell me. Tell me about it. You can. You can trust me."

"I do trust you."

"So tell me."

"Anything you know puts you in danger, Narcissa."

"I don't care."

"I care."

"I'm already in danger, and yet I'm safer than I've been in years. I'm safe here with you." She pushed herself up with her hands to either side of his shoulders, staring down at him. You've kept my secrets safe and I'll keep yours. Use Legilimency on me right now. Do it. See what I'm thinking. I can block you. I can keep you out or show you only what I want you to see. You've taught me that much and I've already proven I can lie to and manipulate the Dark Lord. So tell me, Love. Don't keep that pain all to yourself."

"Damn it." He brought his hands up to her cheeks and guided her down until her lips met his. Hers parted first, allowing his tongue to dark in, as he moved his hands to her lower back. She straddled him, her knees to either side of his hips, and continued kissing him over and over again, but before they could progress beyond snogging he rolled them over onto their sides, facing each other, then made eye contact, clearly attempting to use Legilimency on her.

Which she blocked.

He reached for his wand and tried harder.

Nothing.

This time he tried it while saying "Legilimens" aloud.

Still, nothing.

Satisfied, he returned his wand to the bedside table, placed his index finger under her chin with his thumb just below her lips, and initiated a tender peck on the lips.

"I'll tell you everything," he said, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of his mind screaming that he shouldn't. He started with overhearing half the prophecy Trelawney made, his horror when he realized the Dark Lord thought it was about the Potters, and how he had begged for her life to be spared.

Narcissa teared up at the pain in his voice when he described how he'd found Lily, dead, on the floor of the baby's room, and her heart ached for both him and that insufferable Potter boy when he explained that he didn't have it in him to pay any mind to the wailing one-year-old in the crib.

"I don't think I'll be a decent father," he admitted. "I couldn't even look at the baby. It's as if he wasn't there."

"He wasn't yours," Narcissa said simply, wiping her damp eyes on the corner of the comforter keeping them warm. "It's different when the baby is yours. Aside from Draco and Nova, I've never much cared for children. They're loud, whiny, impulsive, and sticky."

He managed a slight smile. "Sticky?"

"When Draco was small and Lucius' friends would bring their boys by to spend time with him, it didn't seem to matter what they'd been doing, where they'd been playing, or whether they'd been eating, they'd end up in my beautiful, clean parlour touching my couch and my drapes, leaving muddy footprints and dirty handprints, and they were all inexplicably sticky."

He laughed. Narcissa did too and then they were quiet, lost in their own thoughts, for several minutes before she broke the silence.

"You'll love her forever?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Forever is a long time," she whispered.

"But I want you," he said. "I'm with you. I'm in bed with you. I'm in love with you."

"We should get married," she said, rolling onto her back, expecting him to say no as she had no memory of his admission the night before. "Soon. Now. Tomorrow."

He placed his hand on her lower abdomen, wishing it were already possible to feel his baby moving, and kissed her cheekbone.

"I don't think your husband would approve."

"We don't have to invite him."

He chuckled. "Let's work on sobriety, divorce, and safety before we worry about when to get married and whether to invite your husband. Ex-husband."

Her cheeks went pink with pleasure – he hadn't said no. He'd said 'when.'

"For now," he went on, but she interjected.

"For now, I want you to tell me everything's going to be alright."

"I can't, Narcissa. I'm not a Seer."

"Lie to me, then."

"I won't lie to you. Despite what I shared with you tonight, in the future I may still keep things from you if I feel knowing them will put you in danger, but I'll do so only when necessary, and I will never lie to you."

"I hope our daughter is as honest as you are."

"You mean our son?"

"No. I already have a son. I want a daughter."

"What if I want a son?"

"Sorry, you don't get to choose. That's the mother's job. And I've already informed our baby that I would like for her to be a girl."

He sniggered. "Oh? I wasn't aware that's how it worked. Doesn't seem fair, though. Why shouldn't the father get to choose?"

"The father doesn't have to carry the baby for forty weeks until it's time to push baby out through – well, you were there when Nova was born. You must know where babies come from."

"No," he said, completely straight-faced. "I had my eyes closed. I can only assume Madam Pomfrey cut your sister open and the baby crawled out on her own, completely clean and ready to give herself a bottle. They're relatively self-sufficient, aren't they? Newborns?"

Narcissa giggled and smacked him lightly on the center of the chest. "Darling, you're in for quite the surprise seven or eight months from now. Actually, on second thought, no, you're not. Mother once told me men who watch their wives give birth don't see fit to get them pregnant again, so perhaps it's better if you wait outside while I'm in labor. My sister can stay with me and hold my hand. She owes me. My fingers still don't work properly from her clutching them so hard two months back."

"To clarify, did you just say you want me to get you pregnant again?" he asked, slightly horrified. "Can't we wait to see how badly I fuck up the first one before we start planning for more?"

"I've been planning for more since the day I realized I was pregnant with this one," she admitted, beyond relieved that he hadn't insisted she take that potion. "I have it all worked out now. We'll have two little girls. One with dark hair, one blonde, and they'll be best friends. Lyra and Luna. Luna's sort of an astrological name… if you think about it. I'm thinking they'll be about a year apart, no more than two. I'm not getting any younger."

"I already know a Luna," said Severus. "And so do you. The Lovegood girl you kept in your dungeon for a few months, remember?"

"Oh…" Narcissa frowned with a mix of guilt and disappointment. "Not Luna then. I thought it would be nice paired with Lyra, but I suppose…"

"How about a boy named Betelgeuse?" asked Severus, trying to hide the fact that he was teasing her. "Betelgeuse is a star. Betelgeuse Formalhaut Snape. Now his name includes the proper names for two stars. We can call him B.F. for short. Or Bif."

Narcissa stuck her tongue out, disgusted. "You can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious."

"In that case, I think I'll handle the baby-naming, Love. No offense."

"Wait, I've got a better one," said Severus, a grin spreading across his face. "Epsilon Canis Majoris Snape for a boy and Alpha Coronae Borealis Snape for a girl. Hold it, should we hyphenate our last names? Your maiden one with mine? Epsilon Canis Majoris Black-Snape and Alpha Coronae Borealis Black-Snape? Oh, but I've always liked my mother's maiden name, Prince. Perhaps we could work that in. Alpha Coronae Borealis Prince Black-Snape? Too many letters, do you think? At what age are children expected to learn to write their own names? Three? Eight? Twelve? I think Gregory Goyle has a decent grasp on most of the letters in his, now, but I expect any child of ours would be a bit brighter than that half-troll."

"Maybe we'll forget about star names altogether," she said, but he wasn't done.

"No! I've got it! Sigma Sagittarii Prince Snape, which works for either a girl or a boy, provided she or he doesn't have a lisp, thus forcing the poor tot to say, 'My name ith Thigma Thagittarri Printh Thnape' on the first day of school every year."

"You are a wicked and terrible man!"

"I know." He chortled. "Just ask any student I've ever had. Even the ones to whom I showed favoritism would likely describe me as both wicked and terrible."

"We have a lot of time left to discuss this," Narcissa said, nuzzling up to him. "Let's sleep now. I don't want the Draught of Peace to wear off."

"Here," he said as he coaxed her onto her side and slipped his arm around her waist, resting his body flush against hers as he had the night before. "This doesn't constitute cuddling, does it?"

"Of course not, darling." She placed her hand over his, which was over her belly. "This is snuggling."

He sighed dramatically. "That's worse."

She snickered, as that was precisely the reaction she'd expected.

"I hope baby Agatha doesn't expect me to snuggle her," he added. "How about you be in charge of affection and I'll teach her to read?"

"Her name is Agatha now?"

"You said we didn't have to stick to star names. I like Agatha."

"What about Christie?"

"Too cutesy. Agatha is better. It's a strong Greek name, meaning good."

"Like I said, we have a lot of time to think about it," said Narcissa, clearly not sold on Agatha, but happy he'd finally put forth a legitimate suggestion.

"Until tomorrow, then." He slipped her hair aside to kiss the back _of_ her neck, then her shoulder. She relaxed against him, feeling happier, safer, and more hopeful than she had in months.

"Goodnight, Severus, Love."

"Sleep well, my Narcissa."


	46. The Last (Good) Day, April 30, 1998

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay! As the title of this chapter says, it's the last (good) day, thus I wanted to make the most of it! (Which is also why it's ridiculously long - almost 20,000 words.) The next chapters will be posted more quickly. Thank you for sticking with 'Wanting Narcissa.' **  
-AL :-)  
PS:** The last chapter was about fifty percent fluff. The next two are about fifty percent heartbreaking. But this one is about fifty percent scandalously indecent lemony smut. Consider yourself warned! (Please don't report me. It's still M-Rated & I love you!)

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-six – The Last (Good) Day, April 30** **th** **, 1998**

He woke up around three-thirty in the morning. It was cold and dark both outside and in his room. That wouldn't do. He flicked his wand and the fire roared back to life. Beside him, still fast asleep, Narcissa snuggled closer. He closed his eyes, reminded of the first time they'd been together, in his previous chambers here at Hogwarts, right after she'd told him she'd never even kissed another man (which he'd agreed was 'pathetic'). They'd stumbled into his sitting room and fallen over onto the couch. She had promised to give him everything and he had insisted that "Everything" was strictly physical, then he'd lifted her up from the couch, cradling her in his arms in a way he'd never held any other woman before her (or since). He'd carried her to the bedroom and set her gently on the bed. In retrospect, he should have known from their very first encounter that something was different about what he'd end up having with her when compared to what he'd had with any other women with whom he'd slept.

For one, the kissing.

Their initial kiss had been sweet. Tentative. Tender. The sort of kiss he imagined one would experience at the end of a first date. This was followed by a second, more passionate one, one that caused an uncomfortable tug in his groin while both making him want to tear her clothes off with urgency and prompting him to imagine undressing her slowly, savoring every moment.

She'd kissed him over and over in those early moments, pouring into him all of the loneliness and inadequacy and and desperation she'd been feeling since the start of the decline of her marriage, and he'd returned every kiss, feeling hungry for her, inappropriately excited by the notion of experiencing what his closest friend had, and, if he was being completely honest with himself, eager to engage in a passionate exchange that wasn't driven primarily by fury (like with Bellatrix) or basic need (like with Septima).

Narcissa had kissed him like she desired him…

And he'd liked it.

With Septima, sex was satisfactory, albeit somewhat dull. It hadn't started off that way. It was actually quite exciting at first. He had so little experience with other women – that one time with Bellatrix and a few weeks with Moira Rickets – and Septima was willing to teach him, to turn him into the ideal lover. He needed it at the time, both the physical release and the distraction, as Lily was gone and the Dark Lord had fallen and he'd found himself stuck at Hogwarts, anxiously awaiting the day when the Dark Lord would rise again (Dumbledore had no doubt it would happen) while also counting down the years until Lily's son would come to Hogwarts (a pity the boy looked and acted so much like James).

Over the years, especially once he no longer needed Septima's 'instruction,' they had gotten their routine down to a science. He did what she liked most, then she did what he liked most, they shagged for only as long as it took to both get off, and then she smoked a cigarette (sometimes while giving constructive feedback on his performance) while he dressed before saying goodbye. They rarely kissed on the lips and never held each other afterward as Septima insisted such things would be too intimate, but since they'd been fooling around for over two years before she'd abruptly made this decision (which was followed by cutting him off entirely for six long months) he'd suspected it was because she worried they were developing an emotional connection. When they finally resumed their 'coworkers with benefits' arrangement, it had been different, more distant. She still considered him a friend. Until Dumbledore's death, they ate lunch in private approximately once a week, chatted frequently in the staff room, got together to play Wizards Chess on occasion, and sat beside each other at Slytherin versus Ravenclaw Quidditch matches (she liked to bet on the final score, which Dumbledore didn't allow, but so long as he didn't know…).

Though they were friends, they never again followed sharing a meal with sex or followed sex with a long chat and she made it clear he was never, ever, under any circumstances, to spend the night.

"I don't care if you have a heart attack mid-shag and die in my bed, you'd better come back as a ghost to make damn sure your body isn't still here when I wake up in the morning," she'd once told him.

In a completely different situation, Bellatrix, he suspected, had only allowed herself to be taken by him just after her Azkaban escape because she was feeling vulnerable and confused and insane. She was aching to be dominated as the Dark Lord had always done to her and, given it was unlikely she'd had any sex at all while incarcerated, she was likely simply in need of a quick, mindless fuck, perhaps to remind her she could still feel. Though he loathed her then every bit as much as he had back when she coerced his virginity from him, he no longer hated her specifically for that act. No, now that he was older, wiser, and had a better idea of her relationship with the Dark Lord, now that he'd seen how willing she was to forgive Him for what He'd done to her in December, and now that he knew what she'd been through as a child and teenager, he felt more pity toward her than anything else, and frankly he wished he'd simply turned her away the day she met him at Spinner's End over two years ago. She was as emotionally broken as he was, but she couldn't recognize this.

As for the other women with whom he'd been intimate, Hortensia was the most recent. She had been easy but not enjoyable. Had they not both been drinking last Halloween, he was certain they never would've ended up partaking in that disastrous one-night stand, a couple of hours that brought neither much satisfaction and culminated only when he closed his eyes and pictured Narcissa in her place. She'd kept eyes closed too; he figured she was envisioning herself with the Dark Lord.

Similarly, Severus and Moira Rickets had used each other, though for different reasons. He imagined being with her was a bit like being with a prostitute, someone paid to do whatever was asked, which has its own appeal but was, for him, deeply unfulfilling. He had kept up his end of their bargain, though, and in exchange for liberal use of her body he ensured she went from half-blood nobody to respected member of the Dark Lord's inner circle. Her triumphant ascension to greatness did not last long. They split after His fall in 1981 and she later ended up in Azkaban on the testimony of a Muggleborn witch she'd placed under the Imperius Curse. To Moira's credit, she did not mention her 'relationship' with Severus during her trial when she was quizzed about her dealings with other Death Eaters. She called out only four fellow followers, Barty Crouch, Jr., the Lestrange brothers, and Bellatrix, presumably because they'd already been arrested and charged but she wanted to give the appearance of cooperation.

Bridget O'Malley, arguably the only 'girlfriend' he'd had prior to Narcissa, had developed feelings most unexpectedly. Severus never felt anything romantic toward her and once she revealed her growing affection for him his apathy was replaced by guilt, thus he broke it off before it could go anywhere (a decision for which Septima applauded him, as she'd done the same thing countless times to countless men over the years).

Severus' sole goal in sleeping with Juliet Rosier was to forget about Narcissa, which, in retrospect, was completely nonsensical since Juliet greatly resembled her elder cousin in looks but lacked all of the qualities he found himself loving about the woman currently sharing his bed. Now that he thought about it, 'dating' Juliet likely contributed to his falling for Narcissa, or, at the very least, his inability to get over her, as he spent the entire time mentally comparing them... and wishing he was with his closest friend's wife, not with his former student.

He hadn't been as careful with Narcissa as he should have been, that much was certain. Neither emotionally nor physically. Though she didn't say it, he had the sneaking feeling Septima was disappointed in him, especially if she'd discovered his mistress was pregnant. He'd been considerably more cautious when it came to preventing a potential disaster like that with every other woman he'd slept with, save for Bellatrix as neither time was expected. Septima had introduced him to Muggle contraception in the form of condoms early in their arrangement (she also took the potion – can't be too careful!) and while he stopped needing them with her a decade ago (thanks to a controversial procedure she'd had done at the St. Gabriel's hospital in Paris that rendered her unable to conceive) he'd continued to use them with other women with whom he was sleeping. But he'd never suggested such a method to Narcissa. He wan't sure she even knew that condoms existed. Lucius eschewed such Muggle methods. Why was that? Pure selfishness. For both Lucius and Severus, the decision not to use them when they were readily and cheaply available boiled down to pure selfishness. It felt better to forgo them and since Narcissa was able to brew and take the potion, Severus hadn't had to worry… much.

Narcissa mumbled in her sleep, momentarily jarring him, and turned over onto her stomach. He rolled onto his side, propped up on his hand with his elbow on the pillow, and stared down at her in the darkness. Thanks to the flickering light from the fire, he could make out the long cut on her arm from where she'd splinched herself. It no longer had to be bandaged but would absolutely leave a scar. Gently, so as not to wake her, he traced his fingertips over it.

"How could he cheat on you?" whispered Severus, genuinely perplexed. Though Narcissa certainly had her problems – not least of which was the alcoholism – he couldn't imagine having such an exquisite, charming, dignified, and kindhearted woman completely devoted to him as she'd been to Lucius for over twenty-five years and choosing to step out on her on a regular basis with a revolving door of other women. "What's wrong with him? How could he hurt you? How could anyone?"

Severus had realized from the second time they'd been together that she'd been abused and at the time, it had crossed his mind to wonder if Lucius had been hurting her, even though that didn't seem at all like the man he knew.

When Severus was an eighteen-year-old newly Marked Death Eater, shortly after finishing his last year at Hogwarts, the Dark Lord gifted him and Lucius a woman to share. She was perhaps twenty-five, an attractive blonde of mixed blood who worked for the Ministry. She'd been tortured under the guise of needing information, but mostly it was for the Dark Lord's sadistic pleasure and the entertainment of His followers. Their master had her on the ground in the center of a circle of masked Death Eaters, who were leering and jeering at her, when He asked for a volunteer to "have fun with her then finish her off."

"I'll do it, my Lord," Bellatrix Lestrange had offered, her heavy-lidded dark eyes sparkling madly. She was the only one, save for the Dark Lord, who was showing her face, holding her mask down by her side, unwilling to hide her devotion. She was beautiful then, long before Azkaban. She was twenty-seven and youthfully exuberant, her face framed by thick, healthy curls, and she was wearing a form-fitting low-cut dress with a corset top and long black skirt, deep red lipstick, and jewelry worth more than Severus' parents' house. Though he was in love with Lily, he couldn't help looking her over, finding her attractive, as he later would her sister.

Most Death Eaters carefully guarded their identities, often even from each other. This is why the Dark Lord had circles. While most of the inner circle knew the others by name, it was an exclusive club, one members did not wish the general public to know they'd joined, especially when new members like Severus were within their midst. Except Bellatrix. She was too arrogant, too fearless, too proud.

"Let me have the girl, my Lord!" Bellatrix begged, batting her lashes at him, a slight pout on her painted lips. "I could have such fun with her!"

"No, Bella," the Dark Lord had said, but He was smiling. "I have other plans for you. Besides, this reward should go to someone who has recently proven his worth… someone like… our new potions master." He pointed a bony finger toward Severus.

Severus worked to keep his face steady, reacting as if he'd been offered a candy he neither liked nor disliked, and not as if he'd just been granted permission to violate and further victimize a terrified young woman.

"Me, my Lord?"

"Yes. You have served me well. It is not easy to procure the ingredients necessary to brew Veritaserum. Your efforts are most appreciated. Having you within our ranks over these last six months is already proving most useful, which is why you've been Marked tonight. You take the girl. You and…" He glanced around the circle, carefully selecting a second wizard for the task. He eventually indicated Lucius. "Lucius, you've been with me a long time. You'll ensure our new recruit knows what to do with a delectable prize such as this one, won't you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius had replied with a slight nod.

"Very well. Then the rest of us shall disapparate on my count. Three… two… one…" On his nod, everyone, save for Lucius, Severus, Bellatrix, the Dark Lord, and the terrified woman, disappeared. The Dark Lord then grabbed Bellatrix by the wrist. She brightened at His touch, gazing at Him lovingly. It was the first time Severus had seen her do so, having only met her twice before, in passing at his previous meetings. This was three years before the Dark Lord sent her to Severus on a mission, and two decades before she birthed His heir.

"Have fun, boys," she said, winking at Severus. She switched her gaze to Lucius and narrowed her eyes. Her tone lost its air of flirtation. "Not too much fun."

"You have done well," praised the Dark Lord, looking to Severus and Lucius, the latter of whom was now removing his mask. He turned to Bellatrix. "Come."

"I'm sure I will," she said coyly. Though it was over two years before Severus questioned his status as a Death Eater, back when he willingly championed the Dark Lord's cause and was ready to join the war against Dumbledore's Order, this display turned his stomach. He pulled off his own mask, his expression blank even though he was not yet a true master of Occlumency.

The Dark Lord rolled His eyes – which, back then, were not red or slitted like that of a snake – and Bellatrix smirked. Together, they disapparated.

Lucius turned to Severus. "You don't have to but you may if you wish."

"May… what?"

"Have her." Lucius gestured toward the cowering, trembling form of the young woman, whose name Severus intentionally blocked out. "I don't… uh… That is to say… I haven't any interest. I'm married."

Though they hadn't been friends for long, Severus was already well-familiarized with Lucius' penchant for cheating on his wife thanks to a reputation that preceded him, thus this seemed an odd excuse, but Severus accepted it. Not wanting to admit he had no desire to transition from virgin to rapist, Severus shrugged casually.

"Uh, well, no, thank you," he said. "I'm not interested either. I… don't like blondes."

"We have to kill her," said Lucius, lowering his voice. "The Dark Lord will not be pleased if we neglect to finish the job and my sister-in-law is a capable Legilimens, so I won't be able to lie to her if she asks whether we did it."

"Your sister-in-law?"

"Bellatrix," Lucius spit out her name. "The Dark Lord's whore. She's the eldest sister of my wife, Narcissa. That's why she said not to have too much fun."

"The Dark Lord's whore?" asked Severus.

Lucius nodded. "There are currently only two women in Dark Lord's inner circle, which is what you officially joined tonight, even though you've only been a Death Eater for – how long?"

"I was introduced to the Dark Lord while on Easter holiday from Hogwarts, but I've been brewing potions for Him on occasion since December, when Theodore Nott approached me in need of Polyjuice Potion."

"Right." Lucius drew in the dirt with his walking stick, unable to look at the woman on the ground. "About six months then, and you've already received the Dark Mark. You've moved up quickly. He is pleased by your work. He's been seeking a new potions master for some time, since our previous one was killed by Mad Eye Moody last September."

"Who's the other woman with the Dark Mark?" asked Severus, hiding a hint of nervousness brought on by this information. "Is it your wife?"

"Narcissa?" Lucius laughed, which brought light to his cold blue eyes. "No. She would never. She's home, where it's safe. We're trying for a baby, so…" His voice trailed off. "The other woman is Hazel Whitecrest, a friend of my parents, whose money has largely bankrolled the Dark Lord for the last two decades. That's why the Dark Lord Marked her and welcomes her at meetings, but she doesn't actually do any of the dirty work. He hasn't much use for women in general, you see. The Dark Lord only keeps Bellatrix around because she's easy."

"Oh." Severus had shrugged. From what he'd heard, the Dark Lord kept Bellatrix around because she was sadistic, ruthless, and exceptionally talented when it came to torture, but what did he know? She wasn't _his_ sister-in-law. "So what do you suggest we do with… her? We have to kill her?" He gestured toward the twitching, squeaking woman curled in the fetal position in the center of what had been their circle, trying not to look bothered by whatever they were about to do.

"She's been driven mad by the curses," said Lucius. "She wouldn't live a normal life anyway. She'll never step foot outside St. Mungo's if we release her. She's better off dead."

"It's the humane thing," agreed Severus, who had never taken a life, never wanted to… though if he was going to have to, he wished it could be that of either James Potter or Sirius Black. If he could get rid of James… and convince Lily that he'd finally become _somebody_ … maybe he could win her back? But surely this wouldn't do it – killing an innocent Mudblood woman. Lily would not like this. He'd just have to make sure she never found out.

"I'll handle it," offered Lucius, sensing his new mate's hesitation. "It shall be quick and painless." He raised his wand and pointed it at the young woman. "Avada Kedavra."

A flash of green light and she stopped twitching.

It was the first Killing Curse Severus had ever witnessed.

Certainly not the last.

Narcissa mumbled in her sleep again, breaking Severus free from the memory of that first murder. He could barely make out what she was saying (it sounded like "No, Mr. Sticky-Whiskers, that's _my_ biscuit…") but it made him chuckle. He placed his palm on the small of her back and tried to picture her months from now, heavily pregnant, beside him in bed. Relying on him.

Could he truly do this? Commit to her? Be a husband, be a father?

What if he was awful at it?

He tried to put these negative thoughts out of his mind. Instead he pictured her as she is now, but he couldn't help envisioning her naked, which increased his discomfort in an entirely different way. Damn it. He flung his arm over his face and did his best to utilize his skills as an Occlumens, clearing his mind and not picturing her at all. It wasn't easy, but eventually it worked. Severus managed to drift back to sleep.

When Narcissa awoke several hours later, she felt considerably better than she had the morning before. Her first thought was of alcohol, which was probably a bad sign, but her second was of Severus, and her third was the baby. She glanced around and realized she was sprawled out taking up more than two-thirds of the bed, while her poor lover was relegated to a tiny sliver on the outside edge of the bed. He was curled on his side, facing the door. She scootched closer to the wall and guided him from his side to his back, allowing him adequate space. He relaxed but did not wake.

"I love you," she whispered. "I'm going to love raising this child with you."

But as content with him and as excited for the future as she felt, she couldn't help being frightened, too. What if she lost her head again, the way she had after Draco was born? What if she couldn't function? What if the baby's cries made her crazy? What if Severus wasn't home to protect their baby… from her?

Could she truly do this? Start over again? Be a wife, be a mother?

What if she was awful at it?

She slinked nearer to him, positioning herself on her left side, throwing her arm around his waist and resting her cheek against his right shoulder. She brought up her right leg over his legs. As she did so, her thigh made contact with his groin, making him groan in his sleep. He was hard, which wasn't an unusual way for a man to wake up, but she wondered if 'accidentally' doing it again would rouse him rather than having to wait for him to wake naturally. She tried it. He groaned again as his right hand found its way to arse, drawing her even closer.

"Are you awake?" she whispered. His eyes were closed.

"No," he replied. "But you can keep doing that."

"Doing what?" she asked coyly, rubbing her inner thigh over him a third time. "Doing this?"

"Mm-hm."

"Do you like this?"

"Mm-hm."

She slid her hand slowly down his torso then began to stroke him through his shorts. When he moaned, she kissed just under his ear and whispered, "Tell me what you want, Severus. I'll do anything."

"I want you to suck my cock until I come in your mouth," he replied, eyes still closed. Her eyes, on the other hand, opened wider. He'd never spoken to her quite that way. Though many of their messages in the secret notebook had been arguably just as dirty, he was generally much more romantic and respectful when they were actually together. She could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks, making her entire face hot. "Sorry," he said, not yet fully awake. "Was that too vulgar? I lack subtly at this hour. Especially when you're doing… that."

"It's alright," she quickly reassured him, resuming her motions. "Don't apologize. I… I like knowing what you want." She pressed her lips to that spot under his ear again, then planted a trail of kisses from his neck to his shoulder, down the center of his chest, to the band of his shorts. He moaned when she kissed the tip of his length through the cotton.

"Don't tease me, Narcissa."

"Hush, darling. You're asleep, remember?"

She kissed him through the cotton again, then freed him of his shorts, took him in her hand, and flicked her tongue over his head, eliciting an even greater groan than her previous actions had. He reached down with his right hand, entangled it in her hair, and coaxed her onto him, again imploring her not to tease him, a request she ignored, opting instead to continue flicking her tongue against him, barely touching his length with her fingertips. Just when she thought he couldn't stand it anymore, she began working her tongue up and down his member, alternating between kissing and licking him, and finally progressed to sucking him hard, using her hand around his base at the same time.

"Fuck. Yes," he moaned, his hips bucking slightly as he struggled to maintain self-control. "Yes, like that." Without meaning to, he yanked back her hair, which made her gasp, then pushed her back down over his length, but she didn't mind. She continued using her lips and tongue and hand on him until he could no longer give even the slightest allusion that he was still asleep. "Come here," he growled, attempting to shift her up to him. "Come up and let me fuck you."

"No," she said. "You said you wanted to…" She felt that blush in her cheeks again. "To come in my mouth. Isn't that what you want?"

"I'm not going to last," he said, writhing against the sheets as she took him in her mouth again. "If you want me to take you…"

"Shhh, Love, it's alright," she said, her lips barely brushing against his sensitive skin. The cool air from her breath combined with the tickle of her hair hanging down against his abdomen made him shiver. She traced her fingertips against his inner thigh as she gave him the advice he so often gave her: "Relax."

But he couldn't relax because she suddenly resumed her actions, licking and sucking and stroking him, and didn't stop, not even moments later when he informed her he was on the brink of completion. She did exactly as he'd requested, causing him to cry out her name, unable to keep from thrusting into her mouth as he finished.

Breathless, she rested her forehead against his hip.

"Yes," he murmured weakly, brushing her hair away from her face. "Okay."

"Okay?" She kissed his hip before moving back up to settle in his arms. "Am I getting better at that or am I merely okay?"

"You're the best I've had and the only one I want," he answered honestly. She wasn't the most experienced, but she was absolutely the most enthusiastic, though he suspected the way he felt about her emotionally contributed to how he felt about literally everything they did physically. He'd meant it when he'd told her months ago that she ruined sex with other women for him. He slipped his hands under the long black tee-shirt she'd worn to bed, stopping just below her breasts. "Let me undress you?"

"Yes," she whispered, suppressing the sensation of a flurry of butterfly wings flapping around in the pit of her belly as he pulled the shirt off over her head, tossed it to the floor, and rolled over on top of her. While they kissed, he ran his slightly calloused hands up her soft arms, pinning her wrists above her head on the pillow, for the millionth time wondering how her husband could have spent most of their marriage cheating on her. "I can't imagine ever wanting another woman the way I do you," he said. "You are perfection, Narcissa."

"I'm not," she said softly, avoiding eye contact as if suddenly shy. "I am far from perfect. I'm deeply flawed, Severus. I'm an alcoholic with a grown son who resents and mistrusts me, with another baby on the way, one I may have given brain damage. I'm sexually repressed thanks to a childhood of abuse, I've been cheating on my future-ex-husband for over two years, and I just found out my father didn't think I was his, which is probably going to give me daddy issues, sure to be compounded by my already-existing mummy issues. I'm afraid of being looked at when undressed, everyone thinks I'm a snob, the Dark Lord says I'm useless, my sister thinks I'm a bad mother, and I still struggle to make a decent cherry pie. I don't deserve a brave and brilliant man like you. Are you certain you even _want_ a broken woman with so much bloody baggage?"

"We all have baggage, Narcissa, but you're perfect _to me_." He placed a quick kiss on her nose, which made her giggle. "Trust when I say I want you. How many times have I told you I want you? I'll always want you. I've wanted you for the last twelve years and especially for the last two. I want you all the fucking time." He removed one hand from her wrists, snaking it down to her lower abdomen. "I want you, and I want this." His mouth followed. He kissed just below her navel, continuing south, with his hand moving to her lower back. Narcissa stopped him once he'd reached the approximate location of her uterus. His lips brushed against her skin as he repeated, "I want this."

"She's about the size of a raspberry," said Narcissa. "I can't exactly feel her yet but I know she's there."

He sighed against her skin, closing his eyes, lost in picturing his raspberry-sized progeny. Narcissa combed back his hair with her fingertips and bit her lip. She had a question she wanted to ask him but she was afraid of the answer. Before she could speak, though, he had an inquiry for her.

"Do you suppose… the other one… before… when I Owled you that potion," he said stiltedly, not opening his eyes. "Do you suppose it was mine?"

"Yes, I believe it was," she said, hoping she'd managed to hide the pain in her voice, but as usual she couldn't keep the truth from him. "I can't be certain, but…"

"But you believe it was."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." He kissed her there again before moving back up to lie beside her, for the first time trying to picture how life might be different now had she kept that baby.

"If I hadn't… taken it… she would've been a year old in February," said Narcissa softly. "Or he. I think about that… sometimes."

"We can't change the past," said Severus simply. He nearly added, "We did what we thought was best for all involved at the time," but held his tongue, as he was unsure of whether this would be any comfort.

"If you change you mind…" Narcissa began. She took a deep, shaky breath in and let it out slowly before continuing. "If you're only being kind to me out of pity or staying with me out of some sense of duty, you don't have to. I meant it when I said I didn't want to do things again like I did before. I don't want to trap you into feeling like you have to be with me because I've gone and gotten myself pregnant–"

He cut her off. "You did _not_ go and get yourself pregnant. I wanted to get you pregnant, remember? I returned to Malfoy Manor that night with the express intention of getting you pregnant. And two weeks later, once my head had cleared and even though we'd talked about it, I again took you to bed again without giving any thought to preventing… this. Don't get me wrong, the thought of bringing a baby into the world in the middle of a war both terrifies me and has me questioning my own sanity, but sod it, Narcissa. I want our baby and I want you and I don't want you to think I'm only telling you this because I feel trapped. I don't feel trapped. I don't want _you_ to feel trapped."

Her eyes brimmed with tears. Between pregnancy hormones, the stress of the last few weeks (hell, the last few years) and her new life of (forced) sobriety, she was feeling even more emotionally vulnerable than usual. She sniffled and brought her hand up to his cheek. "I am completely, hopelessly, and stupidly in love with you, Severus Tobias Snape."

"It's mutual, Narcissa Elladora," he replied, intentionally leaving off her last name. "It's complete and hopeless; it's stupid and it's mutual."

"Show me," she whispered, guiding him on top of her. "Show me how you feel."

They spent the hour kissing and exploring and pleasuring each other, eventually fell asleep intertwined. They did not wake again until the sun was up and Severus was nearly late for breakfast in the Great Hall.

He showered quickly, dressed, kissed her goodbye, and promised to return around lunch time.

She lounged in bed awhile longer before getting up to vomit ("Thanks, Baby Snape," she thought sarcastically as her stomach painfully contracted, causing her to dry-heave when there was nothing left to expel). Then she took her own long, hot shower, fixed her hair by pulling it half-back into a braid, and dressed. She was unable to reattach the missing sleeve from her white dress, so she simply used Diffindo to remove the other so they'd match. A sleeveless dress showed off her long, jagged Splinching scar in a way she didn't love, but she supposed there wasn't anything she could do about that at the moment.

Thanks to the magic of Hogwarts (or, more specifically, the magic of house elves) a breakfast of fresh fruit, croissants, orange juice, and tea was waiting for her in the sitting room when she entered. He'd left a vial of Stomach Settling Solution out, which she took immediately, bringing her immense relief. She wished she'd had this during any of her four prior pregnancies.

It was dull spending the day alone confined to two rooms at Hogwarts, but it was considerably less stressful and depressing than being at Malfoy Manor, though she found herself missing baby Nova. She wondered whether Bellatrix would leave once the war was over – assuming she managed to escape being hauled back to Azkaban – and whether she would take the baby with her. If she had to go on the run, it might be more practical to leave Nova with Narcissa. She and Severus could raise the girl alongside their own. But what if Bella hated Narcissa? How would she react to knowing her baby sister had fallen for a man who'd played the Dark Lord for nearly twenty years? How would she react when she learned that Narcissa herself had turned away from Him… _before_ she was certain of her lover's loyalty, not _because of_ it?

She might end up as bitterly estranged from Bella as she was from Andromeda.

Perhaps she should talk to Andromeda.

Someday.

Narcissa busied herself by reading the Daily Prophet, checking out the books on Severus' shelves, picking at the fruit, and gazing out the high window over the grounds. Around noon she found a roll of parchment and a quill in a drawer in the small desk in the corner and curled up on the couch. In loopy cursive, she scrawled a number of names.

 _Lyra Elladora Snape_

 _Agatha Elladora Snape_

 _Luna Black Snape_

 _Lyra Narcissa Snape_

 _Lyra Agatha Black-Snape_

She had done this over and over again when expecting Draco. She'd wanted to bring back the star and constellation names the Black family was famous for, but Lucius had wanted their child to be named for one of his parents. She tried various combinations over and over again while imagining herself using each other, followed by calling, "Come here!" or preceded by "Happy Birthday," until she knew what felt right:

 _Lucius Crux Malfoy_

 _Lucius Orion Malfoy_

 _Draco Cygnus Malfoy_

 _Draco Abraxas Malfoy_

 _Orion Black Malfoy_

Though she was desperate for a boy back then, she'd experimented with girl names, too:

 _Claudia Auriga Malfoy_

 _Elladora Delphine Malfoy_

 _Delphini Narcissa Malfoy_

 _Cassiopeia Druella Malfoy_

 _Austrina Claudia Malfoy_

In the end, she'd decided upon Draco Lucius for a boy or Delphini Elladora for a girl, despite Lucius' insistence she change Draco's middle name to Abraxas and Delphini's to Claudia.

The baby she'd conceived after Draco had been a girl.

She'd been having issues with cramping and spotting, so she'd gone with Lucius to St. Mungo's for a thorough examination with one of their top specialized Healers, leaving their son at home with his grandmothers.

The Healer was capable, but cold. She barely spoke as she did the exam, save for comments to her assistant, who jotted down notes Narcissa couldn't read. Once she was through, the Healer instructed Narcissa to dress, retrieve her husband from the waiting area, and meet in her office.

That's where she told them the news. There was no sugarcoating it.

"Master Malfoy, your wife has suffered a severe placental abruption. I might have been able to do something if you'd brought her to me sooner, but now it's too late. The baby is unquestionably dead. I need to remove the fetus from your wife's uterus."

Lucius placed his hand on Narcissa's knee. She could not move. It was as if she'd turned to ice, as if she'd been Petrified. She was frozen. The Healer continued.

"I can do the procedure now. You should not wait. Failure to act promptly could be fatal."

"You said our baby is already dead," said Narcissa, unable to process this, unable to cry. "How much more fatal could it be?"

"Fatal for you," clarified the Healer.

"Then do it," said Lucius without hesitation. "Take her in now."

The last thing Narcissa remembered before the procedure was the assistant leaning over and saying softly, "It'll be alright, Mrs. Malfoy. You're lucky. If you were a Muggle, you'd have to deliver the baby stillborn, but Healers have recently developed a method that induces miscarriage without you having to even be conscious. Take this potion – that's good, drink it down – and when you wake up, you'll feel as if nothing happened." She was trying to be comforting, but her words filled Narcissa with an additional sense of dread. She wasn't sure she wanted to wake up feeling as if nothing happened when the reality was quite the opposite.

Once she was in recovery, before she was able to dress and depart, the assistant came in again, to check on her.

"I'm so sorry about your daughter," the assistant said.

"It was a girl?" asked Narcissa.

"Yes," said the assistant. She patted Narcissa's arm. "Don't worry, you can try again. You're still young."

This, too, was of no comfort.

When the Malfoys returned home but before they'd gone inside, Narcissa asked Lucius what they should tell Draco's grandparents. What they should tell Draco.

"We'll tell our mothers that you had a miscarriage," answered Lucius. "It's more or less the truth, isn't it? And Draco's only three. We can simply tell him we thought about it and decided not to give him a baby brother or sister right now after all. In a few weeks, he'll forget all about it."

Lucius had been right about Draco. The boy had spent a couple of weeks gently tapping his mother's tummy and asking about the new baby he'd been promised, but then it was Christmastime and with all the excitement of hanging stockings and getting presents he forgot about being a big brother. But Narcissa couldn't. And, she suspected, neither could Lucius. The divide between them further widened after they lost that baby, much more so than it had after the first miscarriage, Draco's birth, or the Endora affair, and worst of all was the fact that they never really talked about it, even though they were both grieving the loss. To cope, she threw herself into doting on Draco and hosting fancy parties while Lucius threw himself into a six-month fling with some pretty young witch he'd met at the Ministry.

She'd liked some variation of Delphinus (Delphine? Delphini? Delphi?) for her daughter because she'd thought it would sound nice with Draco, just as she now thought Luna and Lyra would pair well together (until Severus pointed out the problem with the former, that is) but some of the other names she'd considered back then weren't bad either. Perhaps she could find use for one of them now…? She dipped the quill and jotted more ideas on the parchment.

 _Austrina Elladora Snape_

 _Cassiopeia Christie Snape_

 _Lyra Grace Snape_

She kept coming back to Lyra, the name Bellatrix had so casually discarded, but Grace was new. It had just popped into her head. She had told him they didn't have to stick to stars and constellations. Perhaps she should suggest Grace. It was certainly prettier than Agatha, though it didn't have any personal significance.

"Narcissa!" Someone was calling her. Not Severus. A woman. "Narcissa Malfoy!"

It was Dilys Derwent. Or, technically, the portrait of Dilys Derwent. Narcissa wasn't supposed to go into the office, but surely if Dilys was calling her by name she could make an exception?

"What is it?" she called, poking her head into the office.

"Your husband – is he a tall, slender man with long blond hair and a snake's head cane?"

Narcissa's gut leapt into her throat. She rushed in to face the portraits. "Yes, that's him. Why?"

"He's here!"

"What?" She glanced around the office, completely on edge. "Where?!"

"Tell her, Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth Burke frowned and shook her head. Dilys sighed impatiently.

"Elizabeth was visiting one of her other portraits down near the main entrance when she saw him come in. He found Severus and asked him if they could have lunch together. They left a moment later, didn't they, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth only continued to glare judgmentally at Narcissa.

"Elizabeth!"

"They did, yes," said Elizabeth. "Lucius Malfoy asked if he could join Severus Snape for lunch in his office and the Headmaster suggested they go to Hogsmeade instead, presumably because he was afraid your husband would discover you here. And that's all I shall say on it."

"Oh, dear," said Narcissa, sinking into Severus' desk chair. "I wonder what Lucius wants with him. What could they possibly be talking about?"

At a table in the back corner of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, Lucius and Severus sat across from each other, drinking butterbeer. Rosmerta was at the bar and though she recognized Malfoy as the father of the boy who'd put her under the Imperius Curse, she said nothing, opting to send her new employee over to their table instead.

"Two fish and chips?" asked the waitress tentatively, as if afraid they would have changed their minds about their order in the time it took her to have Mickey in the back fry up the fish.

"Yes, thank you," said Severus, setting down his scotch. Lucius did not speak until the girl had gone.

"Severus, I didn't ask you here just so we could eat," he said, leaning forward, ignoring both his food and his liquor. "I've been needing to talk to you."

"About?"

"About Narcissa."

"What about her?" asked Severus, going blank-faced as he always did when concealing secrets from the Dark Lord.

"As I'm certain you realize, our marriage is… not… good." Clearly it pained Lucius to say this, though Severus wondered how much of his discomfort came from having to admit it to another, thus potentially tarnishing his image. "She hasn't been staying with me since – since that silly little incident you witnessed – and a couple of days ago, after she told me she wanted a divorce, she left."

"She left?" Severus raised an eyebrow as if this was news to him. He poured vinegar on the chips, waiting for his friend to continue.

"She was pissed. I have no idea how much she'd had to drink, but… but it was too much. She said she wanted a divorce, I told her to get out, and… she did. I didn't realize until the next morning that she'd left the Manor. I'd only meant for her to get out of the bedroom. But around breakfast time, I went into her room to check on her and apologize, only to realize the bed hadn't been slept in. I quizzed the house elves but one knew nothing and all the other would say is, 'Last I saw her, she'd been drinking,' which was of no help. And she didn't come back last night either. I've checked all over Malfoy Manor in case she was simply hiding from me, then I checked every inn I could think of, including a Muggle bed and breakfast not far from us, and I checked St. Mungos in case she…" He glanced around the pub uncomfortably. "In case she hurt herself, whether by mistake, or… or…"

"I'm certain she would not have done that," Severus assured him, correctly interpreting his worried expression. "Narcissa is not suicidal."

"But what if she is? How would I know? That's just the thing, Severus. I don't know her anymore. I don't know a damn thing about her. It's as if we're strangers. I saw Draco on the grounds this morning, before I found you. He hasn't seen or heard from her either. I tried not to worry him, though. I simply said we were in need of space and she left to stay elsewhere for awhile, but I wondered if she'd revealed to him her location. He said she hadn't. What if… what if she doesn't come back?" He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "What if she can't? What if they've got her? The Order? What if they're holding her hostage or torturing her for information?"

"They wouldn't," said Severus. "That's not how the Order operates. Trust me. You said she told you she wants a divorce and you told her to get out? Why not assume that's what happened? Why assume the worst?"

"Because she hasn't returned! You must understand, she has never been on her own before! I married her when she was seventeen, halfway through her Seventh year. She went directly from her mother's home to mine. During the First War, when I was away, she remained at the Manor, but my parents were still alive and living down the hall, then after Draco was born her mother moved in, plus we've always had house elves, and now with Bellatrix at headquarters… My wife has literally _never_ spent a night alone anywhere. The closest she's come was the night you found her drunk - thank Merlin it was you and not somebody else - and let her stay in your sitting room. Where could she be? She doesn't appear to have taken any of my money with her. I'm not sure she even knows how to manage Muggle money. She hasn't been to Gringotts, I checked. I'm worried sick. She can't survive on her own for long."

"She's a forty-three-year-old woman, Lucius, not a deaf-blind two-legged puppy. I'm certain she's more capable than you think." Severus cut off a bite of fish and popped it in his mouth. Chewing gave him an excuse not to speak further on the subject.

"I know how old she is, Severus, but… You don't know her as I do."

Severus again cocked an eyebrow. Part of him was dying to reply, "Actually, I know her better." To keep from speaking he ate another bite of fish. Lucius finally cut into his own lunch. They chewed in silence for a few minutes until Lucius set down his utensils with a sigh.

"I've never hurt her," he said. "I know you're probably thinking I have, given what you… witnessed… back in March. But that… that would have been the first time. I've never hit her. And I'm not sure I would have then. I was simply… worried. I'd been up all night, worrying. Just as I was up all last night. I hate not knowing where she is, if she's alright."

"You didn't look as though it was the first time you've raised a hand to her," Severus said coolly as he swirled a fry in vinegar. "It surprised me. I thought you and I had similar views regarding violence against women. You know how I felt about my father hitting my mother and I was under the impression your position was the same."

"I wanted to kill my father the time I saw him hit my mother," said Lucius, frowning. "I'm certain Draco must have felt the same about me. My father swore it had never happened before, and my mother confirmed, but I didn't believe her. She used to flinch when he'd get angry, years before I saw him hit her. Why would she flinch if she wasn't afraid of what he might do? But it's not like that with Narcissa. She's not frightened by me. I got her on the hand once, with the head of my walking stick, but it was an accident; I was aiming for the table. She's slapped me across the face more times than I can count and I've never once reacted by hurting her, not once in almost thirty years. I never even raised a hand to her until six weeks ago, never even considered it. I told Draco as much, but I'm not sure he believes me. I'm not sure you believe me. But it's true. You may not believe me but it's true."

"I do believe you," said Severus, though this didn't make what Lucius had done that day okay, plus he knew that Lucius had been aggressive toward her in other ways.

"She drinks too much, Severus. That's what our row was about. I want her to stop drinking. She'd rather get divorced than stop drinking."

"You think that's the reason why she wants to get divorced?" Severus challenged snidely. "You don't suppose it has anything to do with the dozens of other women you've taken to bed since you made your marriage vows?"

"That never bothered her before," Lucius said, and Severus didn't need Legilimency to know his mate believed this to be the case. (If he wasn't bedding the man's wife, he might actually feel badly for him.) "It didn't seem to bother her until I started seeing Juliet, which I'll admit was a mistake. If ever you get married, Severus, you should do your best to avoid sleeping with your wife's relatives, even those she barely knows."

"If ever I get married," said Severus slowly, "The only woman I'll be sleeping with is my wife."

"You say that now, but wait." Lucius sighed. "I used to tell my father the same thing. I was disgusted by the way he stepped out on my mother. I abhorred it. But he assured me I'd see someday. There are simply certain things a man needs from a woman that he can't get from his wife. I mean, you were with Juliet, weren't you?"

"A few times," answered Severus nonchalantly. "But I wouldn't want to marry her."

"No, no, that's not what I – I asked because there are things – she was adept when it came to – you know. Narcissa, on the other hand? She wouldn't know how… And I wouldn't want her to."

Severus felt the tips of his ears going hot but he used his ability to clear himself of all emotion to keep from feeling angry. It wasn't easy.

"She's your wife, Lucius. You shouldn't need to fuck her cousin on the side."

"You don't understand."

"You're absolutely correct. So make me understand."

"For starters, I don't _fuck_ my wife, Severus. But Juliet? There are a number of vile, dirty things I could do to Juliet that I wouldn't dream of doing to Narcissa. I could pull her hair, hold her down, choke her, spank her, take her from behind, force her to her knees, speak viciously to her, and she liked it. She _loved_ it. _She begged for it._ I would _never_ degrade Narcissa the way I could Juliet. My wife is too good for that. She is a beautiful, dignified woman. We have a son together, for fuck's sake. And at the risk of sounding completely crass…" Lucius lowered his voice to just above a whisper even though it was loud in the pub and therefore probably unnecessary. "Think about it, mate. You wouldn't want your wife to suck you off then go kiss your children goodnight, would you?"

Severus lifted his fork and stabbed the fish as if it had just insulted his mother. Surly, he replied, "I'd rather that than have my mistress do it before I go home to kiss my wife."

"You say that now because you've never been in that situation. I _respect_ my wife, Severus."

"I believe your definition of respect differs from mine."

"Do you suppose that's how she feels, then?" asked Lucius, an expression of confused concern on his thin face. "Disrespected?"

"How would _you_ feel?" Severus cut off a bite of fish but didn't eat it. "If the situation were reversed? If she was the one seeking from another what she cannot get from you?"

"What?" Lucius glared at Severus, but there was fear evident in his blue eyes. "What are you talking about? Is she with someone else? Do you know where she is? Who is he? I'll kill him. She's my wife. I'll not share her. What have you heard? Did Bellatrix reveal something to you? I think that bitch knows more than she's letting on."

"I'm simply saying, if you wouldn't want to share your wife with other men, why do you believe she should accept sharing her husband with other women?"

"Because… because…" Lucius's eyes darted around the pub as if a decent justification for his archaic position would hop out from under a table and save him. Finally he concluded weakly, "Because it's not the same!"

"So you say."

"So everyone says!"

"So you say and so your father said. But hardly everyone."

"The Dark Lord," whispered Lucius, eyes darting nervously around the pub. "I was sick when He… over Easter… I thought He was going to do her like He did her sister back in December. You saw."

"I saw."

"I failed her, Severus. I didn't… I had no idea what to do, so I did nothing. I couldn't very well fight Him for her. I'd be no match for Him. If I thought He'd only kill me, though, I'd have made an attempt, but He might have killed her – or Draco. She wouldn't want to live without Draco. Neither could I. I couldn't risk it. I… I left the room, though, Severus. I couldn't watch… whatever He planned to do. I couldn't stand by and watch as another man defiled my wife. That was my greatest fear when I was in Azkaban. And now? The Dark Lord hasn't been seen in days, not even Bellatrix knows where He is. What if He has her? What if she's been captured? What if she's dead?"

"The Dark Lord would have no reason to capture and murder your wife." Severus' voice was steady and without emotion, the tone he often used while teaching. "If He were going to hurt her to punish you, He'd do it at Malfoy Manor in full view of you and her sister to maximize the impact. You're being unreasonable. You said she demanded a divorce and you responded by telling her to leave. Sounds like she left. Are you certain that's not what you wanted?"

"I am in love with my wife, Severus," said Lucius, looking panicked and pained. "And though she's angry at the moment, I know she feels the same. She must. We've been married twenty-five years. But to be completely candid, one friend to another, even if He hasn't got her, even if she hasn't been taken by the Order, she's still in danger. She's in a fragile state, she's got a drinking problem, she's not terribly independent, and I'm worried. Should you see her, you'll let me know, won't you? Try to convince her to come back home? Maybe even apparate her to the grounds? She'll be far safer at Malfoy Manor than she could possibly be on her own. Despite the presence of... you know." Severus nodded. Lucius continued, suddenly looking sad. "She doesn't want me at the moment, but she needs me. And I need her. I love her. I'll do anything to have her back."

"If I see her, I'll let her know." Severus set down his fork, leaving more than half the fish uneaten. He stood, reaching into the pocket of his robes for some money. "I'm sorry, Lucius, but I must be returning to Hogwarts."

Lucius held up a hand. "It's on me." He threw four galleons on the table. Severus scowled. Lucius treated gold with the same carelessness Narcissa did, willing to overpay simply to avoid having to wait for change, and perhaps to remind others that money meant little to them because they had so much. If she was going to stay with Severus, she would have to learn frugality. Once outside, the two men shook hands and said goodbye.

"Thanks for listening," said Lucius, clapping Severus on the shoulder. "You've always been a good friend to me. Better than I deserve." He apparated away.

Severus walked the long trek back to Hogwarts slowly, thinking about the conversation, trying to set aside both his regretful culpability in the cuckolding of his friend and his continued insecurity in regard to Narcissa's feelings about him. The closer he got to Hogwarts, the darker his mood, as he became convinced Narcissa deserved better than both of them.

He had never really challenged Lucius on the subject of his affairs before and now that he'd heard him argue that it was degrading and disrespectful to do to Narcissa what Severus not only wanted to do, but had done that very morning, he couldn't help wondering if his friend had a point. Now that Narcissa was carrying his child, should he be treating her differently? Was it wrong to want to make love with her one night and fuck her the next?

By the time he reached his office and gave the password ("Lily," chosen out of guilt that morning, when he mentally apologized to his deceased former friend for wavering in his devotion to her) he was feeling borderline desperation in place of depression.

He wanted the war to be over. He wanted the Dark Lord to fall in a way that would ensure He could never return. He wanted to come clean to Lucius. He wanted to take Narcissa and leave the country, perhaps even the continent, and not bring with him any of the emotional baggage of the last twenty years.

He wanted to stop feeling guilty over Lily's death and to forget the many murders in which he'd been complicit during the First War, not to mention the few he'd witnessed in the last three years, namely that of Charity Burbage, whose haunting last words had been "Severus, please, we're friends." He wanted to relinquish his responsibility for the well-being of Harry James Potter, the 'chosen one,' The Boy Who Lived.

He wanted out of this self-imposed purgatory.

When he entered his sitting room, he spotted her standing by the bookcase with her back to him. She was wearing her long white dress, the one she'd arrived in, minus the sleeves. Her two-toned hair was pulled half-back into a braid. She was running her index finger across the book titles, so lost in thought she didn't hear him come in. He shut the door quietly, locking it with a swish of his wand, and glided across the carpeted floor to her. She sensed his presence a moment before his right hand was on her right hip. His lips went to her neck, kissing her from behind, breathing in her scent, desiring her. She brought her right hand up to the back of his neck, slipping it under his hair, and leaned back into him, but before she could fully relax in his embrace he swirled her around to face him and captured her mouth with his in a passionate kiss that caught her off-guard and brought her to breathlessness. He cupped her face gently as he pulled away.

"If you don't want this, tell me, Narcissa," he said.

"If I don't want–"

"Because I want this."

Her jaw fell open. He had the same manic look in his eyes he'd had the night he told her wanted to claim her, to make her his. "I… yeah… yes," she stammered. "I don't know exactly what you're asking but I feel confident saying yes."

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Marry me, Narcissa.

"You're asking me–"

"I'm asking you to marry me. I can't offer you what Lucius can."

"I've already told you–"

"I can't give you a spacious manor to live in or galleons to throw around or a… a…" He glanced down at her hands, which were now pressed against his chest. "An expensive ring, or… or albino peacocks, but I'll love you and I'll be faithful to you and I'll respect you even when I'm doing vile, dirty things to you."

"You'll… what?"

"I don't want to wait until the war's over. I want you divorced. I'll take you to the Ministry to file the paperwork. Then, the moment it's approved, we'll hurry off and–"

"And get married?"

"Yes. Do you want to?"

"To marry you?"

"Yes. Even though I cannot provide you with–"

"Stop it, Severus Tobias Snape. Stop telling me what you can't provide as if those things matter. I told you before and I'll tell you again, I don't need a manor. I don't need galleons. I don't need…" Her gaze darted down to the ornate bejeweled ring on her left third finger, the inscribed token of Lucius' devotion that she loved so much. With a small sigh, she twisted it off and placed it behind her on the shelf. "I don't need this ring. I don't need _any_ ring. And I certainly don't need those bloody peacocks. I've always hated them." She grabbed his wrists, brought his hands down to her hips, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "What I need is to keep my son safe through the end of the war, to give birth to a healthy baby in seven months' time, and to spend the rest of my life with the man that I love. Darling, I thought I made it clear yesterday that I absolutely want to marry you."

"So you're saying yes? You'll marry me."

His expression was so earnest, like that of a little boy and nothing at all like his usual look, that she couldn't help chuckling before placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

"Yes, I'll marry you."

His hands moved from her waist to her arse, pulling her closer. "You'll be my wife."

"Yes."

"You'll take my name?"

"Yes."

"You'll be my wife and live with me and take my name and bear my babies…"

She grinned, her silver eyes sparkling, an expression of pure happiness across her face. "Yes, my love, to all of that. I'll be your wife and live with you and take your name and bear your babies."

He took her left hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed first her palm and then the front of her finger, where there remained a slight indentation from her ring. "I'll get you a ring."

"I don't need a ring."

"But I'll get you one." His fingers intertwined with hers. "As soon as I can afford it."

"Darling–"

"I don't wish to remain at Hogwarts." His hand withdrew from hers as he again wrapped his arms securely around her waist. "When the war's over, I'll need a new career. Potions used to be a passion of mine, but teaching it to clueless dunderheads for well over a decade made me loathe it. The monotony, the frustration of feeling like nothing I did mattered, the desire to teach another course and being continually denied even though I was more qualified than those hired. If I weren't here, though, I think… I think I could enjoy brewing again. Perhaps I could even open an apothecary?"

"Do you need a sexy assistant?" She brought her hands down to the small of his back and bumped her pelvis against his. "I'll need something to occupy my time while our baby is sleeping."

He pressed his lips gently against hers and murmured, "My beautiful Narcissa, you can be my sexy assistant any time. We have to tell Lucius."

"We have to tell him you said I can be your sexy assistant any time? Why?"

She was looking up at him with such genuine confusion he had to laugh.

"No, I meant we have to tell him about us. He's in pain, Narcissa. I saw him this afternoon, most unexpectedly. We had lunch. He says he'll do anything to get you back."

"It's too late for that," she scoffed. "He would have needed to do 'anything' two years ago, at least. When shall we do it?"

"Tomorrow. We'll go to Malfoy Manor and tell him together, in person. We can't let him keep thinking something horrible has happened to you."

Narcissa chewed her lip as her index finger went up to twirl her hair. "Is that what he thinks?"

"He's worried."

"Oh." She felt badly for hurting him, even though he'd hurt too. "So we'll tell him. Tomorrow."

"Yes."

"And we'll tell Draco too? After we tell Lucius, we should tell Draco. Even though I'm afraid he'll be angry with me. He'll feel I betrayed him, I suspect."

"You're his mother. He'll forgive you."

"I hope so." The light in her eyes dimmed. Severus kissed her temple, eager to see that light return.

"I know so. You've raised him well, Narcissa." He buried his face against her neck, nuzzling her. "You're a good mother. You've been a good mother to your son and you'll be a good mother to our son."

"Daughter."

"Daughter. Or son."

She giggled. "Okay, daughter – or son."

"We'll live at the house on Spinner's End, at least at first, until I can manage something better. I can fix it up, make it more… child-friendly. There's a playground nearby where I used to go with–" He was about to say "With Lily," but cut himself off, pushing away a moment's pain. "I used to go there. We can bring the baby. There are swings. Do babies like swings? And once I can afford it we'll find a place somewhere else, somewhere inhabited by other witches and wizards, perhaps, or, even better, someplace where we aren't near anybody at all. We'll sell that house for whatever it's worth and leave it behind. The only good memories I have there are the ones I share with you. Until our daughter goes away to school we'll read to her every day and teach her useful spells and how to brew basic potions. We'll try to make it enjoyable, not a chore, to ensure she grows up with a love of learning. She'll be pretty because she's yours, but I don't want her to think her self-worth is dependent upon what others think of her based on the way she looks. I want her to know she can be anything, do anything she wants. Or whatever _he_ wants, should we have a son. But first, I need to ensure Potter defeats the damned Dark Lord."

"I hope he does," she said, her chest swelling with joy over his future plans for their unborn offspring. "He has to. For all of us. But when the Dark Lord is gone, Severus, do you suppose my sister will be sent back to Azkaban? She won't renounce Him or pretend to have been under the Imperius Curse or find a way to weasel her way out of a conviction, as Lucius did after the First War. If she goes back to Azkaban…"

"If she goes back to Azkaban, we'll take her daughter in too," said Severus, even though the thought of raising the child of the Dark Lord and His most loyal and sadistic follower gave him the same sick sense of foreboding he'd felt the first time he'd seen Bella stare at Him with lust in her eyes. Severus would simply have to force himself to think of her as Narcissa's niece and not as Bellatrix's daughter. "That's what you'd want, isn't it?"

Narcissa eyes brimmed with tears. Though she'd hate to see her sister imprisoned, raising NovaBlack with him alongside their own little one is precisely what she'd want.

"Merlin's beard, Severus," she said, brushing back his hair, stroking his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Narcissa."

They spent the next hour cuddled on the couch, chatting. He ordered up a BLT and chips for her to have for lunch, which he picked at too, since he'd barely eaten the fish and chips, then he relayed to her the latest antics of the members of the DA and other mutinous students ("They've made it their mission in life to shorten mine!") and she told him everything she'd read in the morning's Daily Prophet ("That rubbish paper. Can't trust a damn thing they print!").

Too soon he had to get back to work. She sat with him in his office while he filled out some overdue paperwork, though she had to be paying attention in case anyone came in, forcing her to rush into the sitting room, which happened only once, when Minerva came in to complain yet again about the disturbing punishments handed out by the Carrow siblings. When Severus had to leave to patrol the corridors and be present in the Great Hall at dinner time, Narcissa read a bit and gossiped with the portraits of the former Headmaster and Headmistresses, save for Elizabeth, who pouted and wouldn't speak to her as she was too scandalized over the possibility of the first divorce in the Malfoy family. Dumbledore didn't speak much either, except to say his piece about the importance of "a little more love in the world" and offer his congratulations on the baby, which she assumed Severus had told them about, since they all seemed to know without her saying a word.

Severus had promised he'd only pick at the food in the Great Hall to keep up appearances, then return to his sitting room to eat dinner with her, so she consumed only tea and, when she felt on-edge, sips of the Draught of Peace while she waited for him. "You don't need wine," she repeated over and over to herself aloud, pacing the sitting room. "You don't need it."

When he returned, she was no longer in the sitting room.

He found her in the loo, wearing only her slip and staring at herself in the mirror, a tub of hot wax in front of her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm dancing the fox trap. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It's a foxtrot, not a fox trap."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll show you what I'm doing. Take off your clothes."

He cocked an eyebrow, half-smirking. "Excuse me?"

"Not all of them, just from here…" She ran her index finger along his waist from left to right. "On up."

"Okay," he said cautiously as he started to remove his robes. Once his chest was bare she slathered a liberal amount of hot wax down the center, between his pecs, over the patch of dark hair.

"Doesn't that feel nice? It's hot wax. Relaxing, eh?"

"It's… not bad," he conceded. "Kind of tingles. What's its purpose?"

"You'll see."

She placed a strip of material over it, pressing down, and kissed him on the cheek… then ripped the material off. With it went his chest hair.

"Ouch! For the love of all things magic, Narcissa, _what the fuck?_ "

She snickered. "That's hot wax for you, darling. I do it every few days."

"You do what?" Involuntary tears stung his eyes. "Engage in an act of bloody self-inflicted masochism?"

"I wax my eyebrows, my upper lip, under my arms, my legs, my… Well, basically, if it's a place that could have hair but there isn't hair there, it's probably because I've hot waxed it off."

"It hurts! My chest is all red." He glanced down, wounded. She giggled and handed him the Essense of Murtlap.

"Put this where it hurts and toughen up. You'll survive, Love."

"Why do you do this to yourself?" He poked at the pink skin, missing his chest hair. He didn't have much of it to begin with, and now…

"I do it to be pretty for you, of course. You want me to be pretty, don't you?"

"I don't want you hurting yourself to be pretty for me!" He slathered on a liberal amount of the Murtlap over his stinging now-hairless flesh. She did the same to the puffy skin under her thin, arched eyebrows. "I can't believe you stole the hair right off my chest, Narcissa. Is this what marriage is like? I may not be ready."

"I'll make it up to you later, Love." She nudged his hip with hers, smiling suggestively. "Promise."

"You'd better," he pouted, but the Murtlap was already taking away the pain.

Shortly thereafter, dressed and fully 'recovered,' they settled in the sitting room for a dinner of shepherd's pie and buttered bread with pumpkin juice. As they were tucking in, Narcissa shot Severus a hopeful glance.

"I could perhaps have a quarter of a glass of–"

"No."

"Not even with dinner?"

"Not even with dinner."

She sighed. "I'm going to need more Draught of Peace before bed. I took all you had already and nighttime is the hardest." That's how it had been when he'd given it up for four days at his request awhile back. She did okay throughout the day, but from dinnertime on, she struggled.

"Very well. I will get you another dosage. But no wine. You don't need it."

"I don't need it," she repeated, though she sounded less sure than he had. Eager to change the subject, she asked him to tell her everything Lucius had said earlier and how he'd said it. Severus had only given her the general gist earlier. Now he relayed the entire conversation, though he still glossed over the list of things Lucius felt he could do with Juliet (and other women) that he couldn't with Narcissa.

"I didn't know his father hit his mother," said Narcissa between sips of pumpkin juice that she wished were sips of Merlot. "He never told me. I wonder whether it happened before we were married or after."

"After," said Severus. "It was about six months after I received the Dark Mark, around Christmas of '78. Lucius' father was at the Death Eater meeting with us but they weren't standing together, which was unusual, and when it was over, Abraxas left without a word. Lucius asked if I wanted to go for a drink at that dodgy little place in Knockturn Alley. That's when he told me. He said he'd always suspected but it was a completely different thing to witness it. Then I told him a bit about my father and mother. We talked about women in general – he talked about you – and were in agreement that women should be treated like people, not property, a position contrary to that held by many of our fellow followers, including Abraxas. It was… I believe that was the afternoon that solidified our friendship."

"He talked about me?" she asked, trying not to seem as curious as she was. "What did he say?"

"He said it wouldn't matter how much money you spent or what names you called him, he would never hit you. Apparently his parents' fight was about money. Namely, Claudia's penchant for spending it on large, expensive, unnecessary items without first consulting Abraxas, whom she accused of being controlling and tightfisted. Neither Lucius nor I thought that was a sufficient excuse for hitting one's wife. Neither of us thought there was any sufficient excuse."

"Would you ever hit me, Severus?" She set her plate down on the coffee table, which they'd Transfigured to be taller during dinner. "What if I made you very, very angry?"

"You couldn't possibly make me angry enough to want to hit you."

"What about our children? If they misbehave, what will you do? Draco would throw massive tantrums when he didn't get his way as a toddler. Abraxas always insisted it was because we never beat him. He'd always say, 'I took Lucius over my knee once and never needed to again!' But I… I hated being spanked or whipped or slapped around by my mother. It didn't teach me not to make mistakes. It only taught me to fear her finding out I'd made a mistake." Her voice cracked as she added, "Sometimes I was as afraid of her as I was of Stepfather."

"I won't hit you and I won't hit our children." He set his own plate down. "Come here?" She climbed toward him. He pulled her into his lap, cradling her. "There isn't much I can promise you, Narcissa."

"I told you, I don't need–"

"Listen, please. There's not much I can promise you, but I can swear that I shall never hit you or physically hurt you in any way, and I won't use corporal punishment on our children, and I'll be faithful to you, and while I may not tell you everything if I think you're safer not knowing, I will never lie to you. You believe me?"

She stroked his cheek. "Love, I believe you." She initiated a tender kiss. After a few minutes of casual snogging, he waved his wand, Vanishing their plates to the kitchens for the house elves to clean. She fixed the table and then he went into his office for a moment, returning with a pack of cards.

"It isn't as if we can sneak away to see a movie or a play or go dancing at the moment, but didn't I tell you once I'd teach you to play poker?"

She caught on to the basic rules relatively quickly, but she struggled to remember which card combinations were worth the most, and her face gave away her hand every time she had a good one.

"You are a woman of a thousand tells!" teased Severus. "Be glad we're not playing for money!"

"People play this for money?"

He laughed. "They also play it with other rewards and punishments," he said devilishly. "They call it strip poker. When you lose a hand, you remove an article of clothing…"

"Why do I save us both the time and take off my dress?" She threw her cards down on the table. "I'll never win a hand!"

"As much as I'd love for you to remove your dress, I have faith that you can win a hand. Give me your cards. I'll deal again."

An hour later, they were indeed playing for money, she was finally getting the hang of it, though she still had a tendency to light up when her hand was good and twirl her hair when she was bluffing. Finally she was poised to beat him.

He could tell.

She bet everything.

He needed to decide whether to call or fold.

But what if she was bluffing?

"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" Severus asked, inching toward her from the opposite end of the couch. "Your soft skin, your silver eyes, the way this dress hugs your breasts and hips…" He advanced, his hand on her thigh, and kissed her. As she melted blissfully into his embrace, eyes closed, he took the opportunity to turn her hand over, just a little, and…

"You're cheating!" She shoved him off. "You're trying to see my cards!"

"What? Me? I would never!" He tried to appear highly affronted but couldn't hide a cheeky grin from spreading across his face. "How dare you accuse me of unfair play!"

"I call! Let me see your cards, you cheater."

"You can't call. It's my turn."

"I think you're lying about the rules. I call. Show me your cards!"

He shrugged, placing his cards face-down on the table. "I don't think I want to play anymore, actually. I'm tired. Let's go to bed. I'll do that thing you like..."

"No bloody way! Not when I'm about to win some of my money back!"

Severus snorted. "You may have forgotten, but you came to me the other night without money, thus we're both playing for what's mine." He tugged at the skirt of her dress. "Let's take this off and go to bed."

"I'm not tired!" She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, attempting to wrestle away his cards. "Let me see your damn cards, Cheaterus Snape."

"That's an awful attempt at a derogatory nickname, Cissy," he said, grinning. "Even Snivellus packed a greater punch. Surely you can come up with better than your cousin Sirius! Or do you Hufflepuffs struggle with making fun of others? You're too nice, that's it, right? Sweet, easy going, simple-minded Hufflepuffs."

"Hardly!" She clutched the front of his robes. "What is it the kids called you? An overgrown bat? It fits." She moved quickly, pinching his wrist, trying to force him to relinquish his cards, but his reflexes were fast and he was strong. "Give. Me. Your. Cards. You Overgrown. Bat."

"That's not nice." He removed her from his lap, putting on an exaggerated pout. "Now you've gone and hurt my feelings, which is a direct violation of the rules of poker, meaning you forfeit and I win."

"What?"

"That's a rule. Ask anyone."

Narcissa let out a shriek that fell somewhere between an expression of frustration and laughter. "I'm going to ask Dilys Derwent!" She stood, stalking off toward the door to his office then stopped and turned back with one hand on her hip. "Or perhaps I'll seek out Septima Vector and ask her. Did they have card games when she was young? Or were wizards still too concerned with harvesting fire and taming dinosaurs to worry about leisure activities?"

Severus held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, you win. Don't go seeking Septima. I'll show you my cards."

"Good!" As she walked back, head held haughtily high, he quickly switched his hands, which were still on the table, with hers, which were on the couch. She sat back on her end of the couch. "I call."

They both flipped their cards.

"Two pair?" she exclaimed, dumbfounded, as he clapped his hands together.

"A straight beats two pair! I win!" He reached for the pile of knuts and sickles on the table. She raised her wand, pointing it at him.

"Don't. You. Dare. I know you switched the cards!"

"What are you going to do?" he asked, not even bothering to reach for his own wand. "You can't speak."

"I can't spe–?" Before she'd finished the word, he'd drawn his wand and said, "Langlock!" which caused her tongue to freeze to the roof of her mouth.

"Ah ih nah fuh-ee," she admonished, shaking a finger at him. "Oo op ih!"

"It's pretty funny," he argued.

"Ih nah!" She jabbed her wand at him. "Ictuhempuh!"

While the word "Rictusempra" wasn't clear at all, her intention was, and by some miracle the tickling spell worked despite her stuck tongue and botched pronunciation.

He roared with laughter, doubled over, unable to catch his breath sufficiently enough to hit her back with another spell. "Stop!" he gasped, reaching toward her. "Please!"

"Cah," she answered, meaning 'can't.' "Muh mou tuk."

He pointed his shaking wand at her, unable to quit laughing. "Fin-finite Incan… Finite Incantatem!"

Her tongue was finally movable again, but she did not cancel out the spell on him as he had the one on her. "You deserve to writhe a few moments longer, Severus Snape. That's what happens to those who cheat at cards. I thought you promised you'd never cheat on me? Stop laughing." She shot him a severe look, but her eyes were glinting mischievously. "I'm being entirely serious right now, darling."

"Cheating… at… cards… not… the… same…" he wheezed, as tears escaped from the corners of his eyes. "Can't… stop… laughing!"

She waited a few more seconds, stifling a giggle as he fell off the couch, before raising her wand again. "Very well. I think you've suffered enough. Finite Incantatem."

He sighed, clutching his sore sides, relieved the tickling had ceased. Once he was able, he dragged himself back up onto the couch. When he'd finally caught his breath, he said, "You play rough."

"You have no idea."

"Oh?" He grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him. He was seated on the couch and when she was standing directly in front of him, he kissed the white bodice of her dress, over her midsection. "I didn't realize you Hufflepuffs had it in you to be rough."

"I let you pull my hair that time in the shower, remember?"

"Yes," he said, bringing his hands around to her arse. He kissed her midsection again. "But that was me being rough. You've never pulled mine."

Pink spots dotted her cheeks but she attempted to maintain a cool façade. She scratched lightly at the nape of his neck with her long nails. "Would you want me to pull your hair?"

"I wouldn't object."

She placed her left knee on the couch to his right, half-settling into his lap with her chest at his eye-level, and brought her hand up higher on the back of his head, scritching harder now. She asked in a tone dripping with faux innocence, "You want me to hurt you a little, Headmaster?"

"Fuck," he swore, burying his face between her breasts, muffling his voice. "You are beautiful."

She entangled her fingers in his hair and yanked his head roughly back, then positioned her right knee against the outside of his left leg. "You said you'd respect me while doing vile, dirty things to me. Do you think you can? Do you suppose, if I give you want you want, you'll still respect me afterward?"

"Yes?"

She pulled his hair harder, this time to the side, and flicked her tongue against his earlobe. She hissed in his ear, "You don't sound certain. I asked you a question and I expect a definitive answer."

"I like you like this," he replied, but that wasn't what she was looking for. She tugged his head back again, kissed his throat, and repeated her question.

"Will you still respect me?"

"Yes," he answered, definitively this time. "Yes, do whatever vile, dirty things you want and I promise I'll still respect you."

"Good. Give me your hands."

"My hands?"

"Yes."

He held them out, wrists together, palms up. He waited. She flashed him a naughty smile.

"You know that spell my mother used to use to whip us? The one Bella modified so she can grab men by the throat and force them to their knees?"

"Yes…" he said cautiously, feeling both nervous and turned on.

"Well, I can't use it to grab you by the throat. Bella won't tell me what incantation she uses and I haven't figured it out on my own. But I _can_ do this." She tapped his wrists and hissed, "Vinculligo." A thick black rope shot out from the tip of her wand, looking exactly the same as the one used by her sister and mother, but this rope wrapped itself around his wrists and self-knotted, binding them together. "Now, darling, hands down." She lowered his hands to his lap and inched forward, positioning herself over the evidence of his building arousal, with her knees to either side of his hips. She pointed her wand across the room at the table he'd until recently used to fix drinks. "Accio sleeve."

"What are you going–"

"Hush." She placed a finger to his lips. "Don't talk now."

"You're beautiful in white," he said, ignoring her command. He kissed her fingertip."Will you wear white the day I marry you?"

"Do you think I should?" she asked, momentarily distracted. "I'm not a virgin. And it's not like last time, when I could at least _pretend_ to be a virgin. Now I'm forty-three, I'll be divorced, and I'm pregnant for the fifth time."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Off-white, then."

"Let's discuss it later. I… I can't think on it now. I have a thing going. Like, I'm trying something. You know, being aggressive and all that. Unless…" She bit her lip. "Unless you don't want me to. To be aggressive, I mean."

"Oh, I want you to," he assured her, voice low.

"Good." She puffed up her chest, regaining confidence. "Then shut your mouth and close your eyes."

"Close my–"

She grabbed his throat, applying just enough pressure to make a point. "I thought I told you to stop talking, Snape."

He couldn't help grinning.

"And wipe away that cheeky smirk. You're supposed to be intimidated!" She brought up the torn sleeve from her dress, the one she cut off when she couldn't reattach its mate, and tied it around his eyes like a blindfold. As soon as she was certain he couldn't see her she squeezed her eyes shut and mentally counted to ten, at a total loss for what to do next. This was not her forte. She had never tried any sort of BDSM or roleplay with Lucius – the closest she'd come was being pinned down and taken roughly by him that time he told her he wouldn't mind seeing her with her sister twenty years ago, which had only annoyed her. She reached up to twirl her hair, wondering what she should do to her lover next and genuinely having no idea.

Severus shifted uncomfortably and she smiled, reassured, when she realize how hard he was getting already.

To give herself more time to think, she kissed him. Passionately. He pushed back against her, wanting so badly to have his hands free so he could grab her, hold her, touch her. As she began unfastening the collar of his robes she brushed quite accidentally against his arousal, making him groan. She did it again.

"Take me in your mouth again, like this morning," he begged. She shook her head, then, remembering he couldn't see her, replied, "No. Sorry. It's time for you to pleasure me."

"How?" he asked. "I can't see you. I can't touch you."

"I'm certain we can think of something." She brushed her breasts against his face and he, realizing how near she was, opened his mouth to suck on the skin just above the neckline of her dress. She reached behind her and unzipped the dress, then pulled it off over her head, which left her in just a sheer, white slip and undergarments. She used one of her favorite but not altogether most practical spells to Vanish his robe and clothing, save for his undershorts, making them reappear folded on the opposite end of the couch. He groaned again, unable to take this teasing. She removed her bra, leaving the slip on, and kissed him hard. When they parted she scraped her teeth against his lower lip.

"You're killing me," he said. "Free my hands. Just one hand. Please?"

"No." She kissed his cheek gently. "But I appreciate you saying please." She sat up higher and slid one hand between them, rubbing him through the fabric of his shorts. He leaned forward as far as he could and, upon feeling her chest with his mouth, flicked his tongue, finding her nipple through the silky fabric. "Yes." She yanked down the top, exposing her bare skin, and pressed herself against him, encouraging him to continue licking and sucking her. "Yes, alright, that's good." She began to grind herself against his lap as he moved his mouth to the valley between her breasts and then to the other nipple.

"Fuck me," he pleaded. "Please. Please?"

"Eventually, I will." She climbed off his lap, knelt between his legs, and leaned forward. She kissed the center of his chest, where she'd earlier removed his hair. She retrieved her wand, which had rolled onto the floor, and tapped the spot, murmuring an incantation that made his skin go painfully icy. She then traced a heart with her tongue, which warmed where it touched, and kissed him there again as her hand worked over his arousal through his shorts.

"You're killing me," he moaned, desperate for more, dying to have his hands free.

"I'll give you one relief," she said, reaching up to remove the blindfold. "But I'm not ready to return use of your hands." She stood, helped him into a standing position, and led him to the bedroom by the rope binding his wrists. "Tell me something you love about me."

"I love that you're going to remove this rope so I can touch you," he said. She laughed and shook her head.

"Wrong answer. Try again."

They were in the bedroom now. She grabbed a small wooden chair from the corner and placed it opposite the bed. She motioned for him to sit in it, which he did.

"Well?"

"I love that you send me stupid puns. I love that you brew your own shampoo. I love the way you look at me in bed. I love that you let me look at you."

"I love this," she said, settling on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, facing him. "Go on."

"I love the shape of your lips. I love snogging you. I love the way you make me feel."

"I love all of those things about you, too," she said, smiling. "Anything else?"

"Yes." He eyes darkened. "I love the way you taste. I love the way you say my name. I love the way you arch your back. I love that you swallow. I love that you're blushing right now."

"I am not," she lied, covering her face for a second to compose herself. "Go on."

"I love that you were so proud of yourself for the way you kept your cool and took a jab at Potter that time you ran into him at Madam Malkins."

She snickered, forgetting her embarrassment for the moment. "I was rather clever with it, wasn't I?! The little prick. He's so bloody arrogant and unremarkable. I wish someone else could be 'the chosen one.' Anyone else. Like your girlfriend, Hermione Granger. Why can't that bushy-haired Muggleborn be the one to defeat the Dark Lord?"

Severus smirked, leaning forward. "Narcissa Elladora, I love that you're ridiculous. I love that you cook without magic. I love how immersed you get in every play, book, or movie I share with you. I love that you plan to name our son Betelgeuse Formalhaut Epsilon Borealis Snape. I love that you're going to touch yourself and let me watch."

Her face went even redder than it had a few moments before. "I am not!"

"You're not going to name our son Betelgeuse Formalhaut Epsilon Borealis Snape?"

"I'm not going to touch myself and let you watch!" She folded her arms defiantly across her chest. " _And_ I'm not going to name our son Betelgeuse Formalhaut Epsilon Borealis Snape because that's stupid and also because we're having a girl."

"It's a unisex name."

"It is not!"

"Touch yourself and let me watch," he requested, his voice lowered seductively in a way that gave her a chill. "Pretend I'm not here. Pretending we're writing to each other."

"I… I don't know."

"Try it," he insisted. "Close your eyes. Pretend we're only writing to each other."

"Okay…" she conceded. "I'll try…" She reclined on his bed, closed her eyes, and pretended he wasn't there.

It didn't work.

"I know you're here, Severus." She looked to him with concern. "I can't simply stop knowing you're here!"

"Close your eyes," he instructed, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. "Picture the notebook and a quill. Picture your room at Malfoy Manor. Picture yourself alone in bed, thinking of me, and tell me what you want me to do to you. Tell it to me as you've so often written it."

"You know what I want," she whined.

"No, I don't. Tell me."

"I want you to ravish me."

"Be more specific."

"I want you to…" She squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, trying as hard as she could to pretend she was in her own bed in the room off the nursery at Malfoy Manor, completely alone, writing to him. "I want you to undress me. I want you to run your hands over my skin, touching me everywhere. I want you to kiss me… I want you to… I want you to…" Her hand found her breast and she squeezed it, now picturing him on top of her. "I want you to touch me here… to do this…"

As she described in more detail what she wanted, her fingers moved south, across the still-flat expanse of her midsection, to between her legs. He fought off a groan when her hands disappeared into her knickers. "I want you to touch me here," she whispered. "I want your fingers inside me. I want your tongue… I want you to… I want… Oh… Oh… Okay…" She moved her fingers faster, her hips bucking, as she struggled to describe to him what she needed. Just when he thought she was on the precipice, she grabbed for her wand, pointed it in his direction without opening her eyes or turning his way, and breathed, "Finite Incantatem," freeing him of the ropes around his wrists. He was out of the chair and on her in half a second.

"Yes," he growled into her hair. "Yes, keep going."

"Oh… oh… okay… it's okay…" She opened her eyes, meeting his. "I'm dizzy," she admitted in a whisper. He responded by kissing her.

"Keep doing that," he demanded when their lips parted. He placed his hand over hers. "You make me so fucking hard, Narcissa. When I kiss you, when I look at you, when I read what you've written in the notebook…" He wrapped his long fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand up. He took two of her fingers into his mouth and sucked them for a second, then moved his hand back down between her legs, continuing what she'd started. She gasped as he began pumping his fingers into her. She was already almost there…

"Oh... Severus... yes..."

"You're going to marry me," he said. "You'll be my wife."

"Yes," she whispered, heady and lost in him.

"You'll live with me and take my name and bear my children."

"Yes."

"You'll be mine and I'll be yours and I won't share you, nor will I cheat on you, not ever." He quickened his pace.

"Yes. Oh, yes. Yes… yes… oh… okay… don't stop…"

"After tomorrow we won't have to hide, Narcissa." He sucked hard on her neck, then nipped at her skin, making her cry out. "I'm going to marry you. I'll buy you a ring and the whole Wizarding world will know you've given yourself to me…"

"Yes."

"I'm in love with you. You're in love with me."

"Yes. Yes!"

He moved south, sliding her knickers to the side and slipping his tongue inside her, making her gasp. She clutched the headboard, squirming, unable to stand it. As he had that morning, he pleasured her with his mouth and fingers until her climax washed over her, bringing hot tears to her eyes.

"Fuck me, Severus, claim me, take me, make love with me!" she cried, taking his face in her hands and guiding him up into a kiss. He ceased the movement of his fingers and in three quick motions removed her knickers, his shorts, and the slip she was still wearing, leaving both entirely exposed, vulnerable, and yet entirely comfortable with each other.

He entered her and began fucking her slowly as she whispered his name. She was too lightheaded to form a more coherent thought. He positioned himself so his back was erect, looking down on her, enjoying the way her breasts bounced with each thrust as he began to increase his speed. She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders.

"You're sweating," she murmured. "It's so… primal."

"You are too," he pointed out, leaning close so he could the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

"Don't be silly, darling. Women don't perspire. It's part of our magic. Like hairlessness."

He rose up again, chuckling. "Come here." He brought her up, then reclined onto his back, holding on to her outer thighs to keep her in a seated position, but she leaned forward, brushing her chest against his. Their lips and tongues met as she rode him. He grabbed her arse, encouraging her to go faster, and moaned. When he could tell she was almost there for the second time, he rubbed her with his fingers, causing her movements to become erratic. She cried out his name as she orgasmed, which brought him to the brink. Unable to hold back much longer, he quickly re-positioned them again so she on her back and thrust into her, panting, as he, too, lost control and finished inside her. Too exhausted to further function, he collapsed on top of her. She held onto him, her arms looped under his and resting on the center of his back. Both were breathless. She could feel his heart beating much too fast as her own was doing the same.

"So…" she said, once he was able to roll off of her and she was being held comfortably in his arms, her back against his chest, both having regained the ability to breathe normally. "Do you still respect me?"

"Yes," he said. He placed a hand on her lower belly. "How could I not? You're the mother of my only child." He kissed her bare shoulder. "I love you. I'm in love with you."

"It's mutual, darling." She closed her eyes, exhausted, and rested her hand over his. "I love you, too."

Exhausted and satiated, it didn't take long for either of them to fall asleep.

But, hours later, they were independently fully immersed in terrible nightmares. This was, unfortunately, something they had in common, as both had suffered from bad dreams since childhood, nightmares only Dreamless Sleep could control.

In hers, she told Lucius about her relationship with Severus and he was furious, but rather than attacking Severus, as she'd expected, he called Draco into the room.

 _"_ _What's Draco doing home?"_

 _"_ _He's decided to leave school forever, to help fight for the Dark Lord as a full-time Death Eater."_

 _"_ _What? No! Draco, darling, you mustn't."_

 _"_ _It's too late, Mother." Draco stood up oddly straight, holding on to a snake-headed walking stick nearly identical to the one in his father's pale hand. "I pledged my allegiance to the Dark Lord again this morning, Mother. Auntie Bella witnessed it. Then I held down baby Nova while they gave her the Dark Mark."_

 _"_ _The Dark Mark?" Narcissa gasped, involuntarily grabbing her own forearm. "On a baby?"_

 _"_ _We're going to kill Potter and all who've worked to help him. We will not let him destroy the Dark Lord, Mother." Draco's gaze flickered over toward Severus. "What's Snivellus doing here? Auntie Bella thinks he's a traitor."_

 _"_ _He's fucking your mother," Lucius said. "She loves him. Not us."_

 _"_ _What? Mother, is this true?" Draco's cold gray eyes suddenly revealed hurt and pain, hurt and pain she'd never meant to cause him. "You don't love me anymore?"_

 _"_ _No! Draco, I love you! I'll always love you, more than anyone, more than life! But… but your Father is right that I… that I'm having an affair. The truth is, while I love you and a part of me will always love your father, I also love Severus. I am in with love him, and… and we want to get married. We're having a baby. But I still love you, Draco, every bit as much as I always have and always will!"_

 _"_ _Severus is a traitor, Draco." Bellatrix entered the drawing room, the baby in her arms, the Dark Lord by her side. "Severus has been doing Dumbledore's bidding for years. Severus has turned your mother against us. She's ready to stand up against everything we've ever stood for. She is, therefore, dead to us. What is your stance, nephew?"_

 _"_ _I…" Draco looked from his aunt to his mother to his father and back at his mother._

 _"_ _Please, Draco," said Narcissa. "Denounce him. Come away with us. We can get away. We can go into hiding. Please, Love, Think about what you're doing. You're just a boy!"_

 _"_ _I am a man, not a boy. And I stand with the Dark Lord, Mother. If you don't, you are no longer my mother. You are dead to me." He raised his wand. "You are dead to all of us. Avada…"_

"No!" Narcissa sat up in bed, her heart racing, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of her forehead. Beside her, Severus was twitching slightly. His head jerked. His hands were balled tightly into fists. Clearly, he was lost in his own nightmare. Should she wake him? Sometimes it's good to be awoken from a nightmare – other times it makes it worse.

 _"_ _She_ is _a beautiful specimen, Severus," hissed the Dark Lord, staring reproachfully down at the woman knelt by His feet. He was holding onto her by the hair. Her belly, swollen with pregnancy, was bleeding thanks to a deep, jagged cut the Dark Lord had made using aspell of Severus' own invention, Sectumsempra. Severus had no idea whether the baby could feel such an injury from inside the womb, but he was, of course, worried about permanent damage. "Why did you have to deceive me, Severus? Why have I lost your loyalty? When did I lose it? It pains me to do this to you – again. Take from you a woman you love. It pains me – deeply."_

 _But it was clear from the smile on the Dark Lord's thin lips that He felt neither sympathy nor remorse. "You have made a grave mistake, Severus. Did you truly think you could get away with it? That I'd never learn the truth? You've been helping Potter. All this time, you've been helping Potter. And now, you shall suffer for it. But fear not – I won't kill you. You can still be of use to me." He drew His wand, pressed the tip to one side of Narcissa's throat, and dragged it to the other side. A thin red line appeared in her skin, not enough to threaten her life, but enough to hurt. Her shoulders shook; she was fighting back tears._

 _"_ _Look how strong she's trying to be for you, Severus. Oh, if only you hadn't turned her away from us. We might have found some use for her. Make no mistake, this is entirely your fault. You'll have to be the one to explain to dear Draco why his mother is dead."_

 _"_ _Dead, my Lord?" Severus reached into his pocket for his wand, desperate to do something, anything, to try to keep her alive, but his hand found nothing there._

 _"_ _Bellatrix disarmed you wordlessly when you walked in," said the Dark Lord, laughing. "Or hadn't you noticed?"_

 _Severus dropped to his knees, pleading. "I'll do anything, my Lord. But don't kill her."_

 _"_ _Déjà vu, Severus. We've been here before."_

 _"_ _Please, my Lord, please, don't kill her."_

 _The Dark Lord let out a high-pitched cackle. He threw Narcissa down to the floor, which had suddenly turned from dark wood to broken glass. "I won't," He said, and Severus felt relief, but it was short-lived. "Not right away. I plan to enjoy her first. Despite… this…" He indicated her pregnant belly. "She is a very attractive woman." His hands went to His robes, parting them, and then to his trousers. "I've heard she's good at this. Perhaps, if she satisfies me, I'll let her live until the bastard child is born." Severus attempted to lunge forward, with no real plan of attack, but taken by the overwhelming need to at least try to save her. Unfortunately, Bellatrix hit him with Petrificus Totallus, making him go stiff as a board, unable to move. She positioned him so he was facing the Dark Lord and Narcissa, who was on her knees in the class._

 _"_ _Now, Severus, don't close your eyes," joked the Dark Lord, knowing he couldn't if he tried. "I wouldn't want you to miss anything."_

 _When the Dark Lord was through defiling her, He turned to Severus with an expression of mock-sympathy. "She was good, but not good enough to warrant an extra six weeks on this earth. Avada…"_

"No!" Severus sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding. He was sweating. He turned to his right to be sure Narcissa was still there – and was surprised to find her staring at him.

"You were having a nightmare too?" she whispered, a frightened expression in her eyes.

"Yes," he confirmed. "You?"

"Most nights. I'm afraid of losing my son."

"I'm afraid of getting you killed."

"I know, Love. It's alright." She coaxed him back down and curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. He twirled the ends of her hair between his fingers, trying to will his heart to stop beating so hard. She threw her leg over his sighed. "It's alright, darling. They were only nightmares. We can relax. It's over now."

"You're right," agreed Severus, holding her close. "It's over now."

But he couldn't shake the terrible feeling it had only just begun.

* * *

 **A/N: Review Responses for 44 & 45 -**  
Thanks for reading and reviewing and also thanks to my new Follows and Faves! On a personal note, I recently signed with a new literary agent and am working on edits for two new middle grade novels that will hopefully sell within the next year... wish me luck!

 **Sunshine490** : Thanks! I take responsibility for typos and such. I had to disable Spellcheck because of the number of fake words (basically everything HP related) and as many times as I read and re-read before posting, I always seem to miss little errors! Thanks so much for your review! I am glad you discovered and are enjoying this fic!  
 **Guest** : Thanks! I can't help shipping Dumbledore/McGonagall even knowing all we do post-Deathly Hallows, so I had to sneak it in there!  
 **OutlawQueenFaith:** Aww, thanks! Sorry to have made you tear up but glad you liked that scene.

 **Harry Hobbit:** Got your PM. Sorry if I worried you! This one just took me a lot longer than usual. Hope this chapter makes you blush too… lol. Thanks for reading!

 **EmoEmpire:** I wish they'd all survived the war! I might write one like that in the future. :)

 **Annika** : Thanks! I've never seen Sherlock (terrible of me, I know!) but I hope you'll enjoy the upcoming scene in which Lucius finally learns of his wife's affair!

 **Avery** : I didn't mean to, but I ended up really liking Septima so she'll come back at least once more before it's over – lol.

 **Karli1252:** Thank you! Mini spoiler alert… Draco *does* confront Narcissa about it eventually. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
 **Bigred, Readdicted, PopularCats, Elphaba8387,** and **ADesperateReader:** Thank you for reading and reviewing! I love knowing readers are still enjoying this fic.  
 **-AL**


	47. Before the Battle, May 1, 1998

**Chapter Forty-seven – Before the Battle, May 1** **st** **, 1998**

The morning started out as Severus hoped all mornings as a married man would start: in bed with the woman he loved.

She was on her stomach, her arms bent up with her hands under the pillow. The blanket was pulled down to her lower back, giving him ample access to her soft skin.

"Are you awake?" he whispered.

"Mm-hm," she murmured. "Are you?"

He answered not with words, but by tracing the long Splinching scar with his fingertips, making her shiver. Then he kissed the back of each of her shoulders, and rested his body on top of hers, his chest against her back, one arm on the pillow partially propping him up. She sighed contentedly as one of his hands snaked around between her belly and the mattress.

"Will you still be able to sleep like this when you start to show?" he asked. "How long until you start to show?"

"My chest is already growing. I could barely clasp my bra yesterday. It'll be another month or two before you can start to see the baby bump – that's what they call it – and maybe two months after that it'll really be obvious. With Draco, by seven months I'd gained more than my mother gained throughout the entirety of any of her pregnancies, or so she liked to tell me. I don't know whether it'll be that way this time." She closed her eyes, picturing herself back then. "It took… it took me years to lose the weight last time, Severus. I gained too much. If… if that happens again, if I'm heavy… will you still be attracted to me?"

"Without a doubt," he said with such sincerity it made her cheeks go pink. He pressed his lips to the back of her neck before rolling off her. "I don't know a damn thing about babies, Narcissa. Your niece is the only one I've ever held and frankly, she made me uncomfortable."

"I'll teach you." She slipped her arm around his waist, settling her hand on his hip, rubbing her thumb against his skin. "When I had Draco, he was the first baby I'd ever held. I knew nothing. Not how to feed him or how to burp him or how to keep him from rolling away when I was trying to change his little nappies. My mother moved in to help but mostly she just stood back and criticized, same as my mother-in-law. Thankfully we had the squib girl, or I'd have never managed. Ultimately I had to learn on the go and you will too. But you won't be doing it alone and neither will I. We'll have each other."

He sighed. "What if I'm terrible?"

She slid her palm up to his chest, over his heart. "What if you're wonderful?"

"Kids don't like me, Narcissa. I've been teaching here since 1981. I've taught hundreds and hundreds of students. And I don't believe a single former pupil would refer to me as 'wonderful.'"

"Not even Juliet?" She traced a heart on his chest with her fingertip. "If you were as good with her as you are with me…"

He laughed. "I assure you, my sexual encounters with her were nowhere near what they are with you. You asked me whether I think sex is better if it's with someone you love? Remember?"

"I remember asking. I also remember that you didn't answer. Not really."

"I'm answering now. The answer is yes. Sex is exponentially better when those having it are in love."

She smiled. "But you didn't love me then. Did you?"

He brought her hand up to his lips, kissed her palm, and returned it to his chest.

"Severus?" she prompted. "You didn't love me six weeks ago, did you?"

"Yes," he said finally. "Yes, I did."

"But you couldn't tell me?"

"I wasn't… ready."

"For how long have you loved me?"

He shook his head, unwilling to put a date on it. "You first."

"I've had a crush on you for years," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"For years? How many years?"

"I don't know." Familiar pink spots speckled her cheeks. "Four or five, maybe. That's why I picked you when I was considering having an affair. I loved Lucius, but I was lonely, and you… I didn't think anything would come of it… but I knew I liked you… You're so calm, so brilliant, so bloody handsome, and your voice…" She snuggled closer. "Then you turned out to be wonderful…"

"I'm hardly wonderful. Didn't I just get through telling you no one would describe me as wonderful?"

" _I'm_ describing you as wonderful. As for the when, it was your birthday. Last year. I still had a crush on you, but… but it had grown into more. And I was so confused, because I still loved my husband, I truly did. That's why I asked you… Do you remember me asking you?"

"Asking me…?"

"Whether you'd ever been in love. And whether you thought it possible to love more than one person at a time."

"I remember."

"I think…" Her gaze fixated on her red nails, avoiding his eye, afraid of what she'd see. "I think I loved you then."

He cupped her cheek and guided her to him. As their lips met, she positioned herself on top of him, straddling his lap. He gripped the backs of her bare thighs, enjoying the feeling of her chest against his. They kissed like this for several minutes until their faces were flush and both were breathless. She pushed herself up with her hands on either side of his shoulders and smiled down at him. He returned the smile, reached up, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I do."

"I hope our son looks more like you."

She rolled her eyes. "I hope our son is a daughter."

"Shh," he said, coaxing her back down. "He might be able to hear you."

She giggled, kissed his neck, and flopped onto her back beside him. "Actually, they do say the baby can hear sounds outside the mother's body. I talked to Draco constantly before he was born so he would know my voice. You can do the same with our baby. Try it."

"It can hear me already?"

"I don't know. I don't know when they develop ears. But you could try. The more you talk to our baby, the greater the likelihood that she or he will be able to recognize your voice once she's born."

"I wouldn't know what to say."

"Say anything."

He kissed his way down her body, as he had numerous times before, stopping at her lower midsection below her navel.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now… introduce yourself."

"Hello there, Betelgeuse. This is your father speaking."

"Our baby will not be called Betelgeuse!"

"That's your mother. She's yet to come around on your name, but fear not, I'll convince her."

Narcissa giggled, swatting his shoulder, and reiterated to their unborn offspring her assurance that Betelgeuse was not in the running.

"By the time you meet us, we should – with any luck – be in a much better place," Severus continued, his long, dark hair tickling Narcissa's soft skin as he spoke. "Provided I am successful in my attempts to aid Potter in the destruction of the Dark Lord, the Wizarding world will again be a safe and secure place in which to raise a child. Your mother and I will be married – _to each other_ – and we'll share a home. It won't be an ostentatious one, but it shall be comfortable, and more importantly, it shall be ours. You won't be spoilt. You'll need to study hard and apply yourself in all you do, because expectations for you will be high, but you shall be well cared for and well-loved. And… and on occasion, should the need arise, I'll… I'll cuddle you. But not snuggle. Your mother can be in charge of snuggling." He kissed her just below the navel, trying to hide a cheeky grin. "You got all that, Betelgeuse?"

"Ask me again to marry you," said Narcissa. Her voice sounded small, as if she was on the verge of tears, prompting him to look up in surprise. The expression in her eyes caught him off-guard. It was one of love, yes, but it was also the one of love he'd first seen the day they'd made the Unbreakable Vow, when they'd hugged before she'd gone, when she was still suffering the after-effects of the abortion program he'd brewed. It was a mix of love, appreciation, and gratitude.

He moved back up to lie beside her, wrapping his arms protectively around her waist.

"Will you marry me, Narcissa?"

"Yes, I'll marry you, Severus. Ask me the rest."

He smiled. "You'll be my wife and live with me and take my name and bear my children?"

"Yes." She held his chin between her thumb and forefinger and kissed him. "Yes to all of that."

"Good. I love you, Narcissa Snape."

Her heart fluttered at the pairing of his name with hers.

"I love you too, Severus Snape."

She climbed on top of him as they kissed and kissed and kissed, aware he'd need to get ready for work soon, but wishing there was a way to make the morning last longer. He ran his hands up and down her bare back as she tucked his hair back and met his lips with hers again. Neither wanted this time together to end. They were just starting to progress beyond snogging when a sharp noise from the corner made them both jump.

 _POP!_

"Mistress Malfoy, madam, missus, ma'am!"

"Squeakers!" gasped Narcissa. She hurriedly covered her naked chest with the blanket and climbed off of Severus. "What're you doing here?"

"Mistress must return to Malfoy Manor, ma'am! Something has happened!"

"What is it?" Narcissa grabbed for her wand and called "Accio slip."

"Is someone hurt?" asked Severus, reaching down to the floor for his shorts.

"Not yet!" squealed Squeakers. "But there has been a break-in and Mistress Bellatrix is most upset, most upset, ma'am!"

"Malfoy Manor was broken into?" Narcissa's brow furrowed. Who would dare to do such a thing?

"No! Gringotts! Madam Lestrange's vault at Gringotts! Potter and friends broke in! They stole… they stole…" Squeakers hiccupped, unable to stop her tears. "Mistress Bellatrix Lestrange is most upset, Madam, most upset!"

"What?" Now Severus looked as frantic as the house elf. "What did they take?"

"They stole something most precious to Mistress Bellatrix, sir! They escaped on a dragon! The word is, they used Polyjuice, Sir. They were disguised. The Mudblood girl was made to look like Bellatrix Lestrange, Headmaster Professor, sir!"

Severus pulled up his shorts, sprang from the bed, and began grabbing clothes.

"I don't understand," said Narcissa. "This is bad, yes, but why must I return to Malfoy Manor?"

"The Dark Lord will be coming, Mistress Malfoy, ma'am. He will be angry!"

Severus looked to his forearm. The Dark Mark was burning, not the in the way it did when being Summoned, but in the way it had when He was close to rising to power, the way it had before Karkaroff panicked and took off.

"Go back to Malfoy Manor, Squeakers," ordered Severus. "Tell no one that you saw us. I… I'll figure out what to do."

"Yes, Professor Headmaster Snape, sir!" said the little house elf, her eyes wide and fearful. She disapparated with another resounding _POP_.

"What was in the vault, Severus?"

"I… I won't lie to you," he said, eyes darting around the room, struggling to think. "The elf is right. We need to get you back to Malfoy Manor."

"What?!" Narcissa scrambled out of bed, throwing her slip over her head. "Why?"

"The Dark Lord entrusted Bellatrix with something she's been keeping in her vault and if it was stolen, He will be furious. I do not know what it is, but I do know that I was to put a sword in there too, the Sword of Gryffindor… but I did not."

"You did not?"

"I placed a copy in the vault."

"The Sword of Gry…? Those kids, when they were at the Manor, they had a sword! That's why Bella didn't let Lucius call for the Dark Lord right away. She said if He came, we would all perish! She kept asking the girl if they'd been in her vault. But… but they had the fake! The goblin said so!"

"The goblin lied. They have the real one. The fake is in the vault. And since the vault has been penetrated, surely the Dark Lord will take inventory of the other contents. It is unlikely they would have stolen the fake sword, since they have the real one, which means He will discover it and learn I have misled Him. If He knows I lied about that… I will try to… to figure out a way to… to talk my way out being discovered, but He may kill me, Narcissa. And if He knows we've been together these last few days, should He discover us, it will be exactly as I've feared. He may kill you, to punish me. Or kill us both. You are in danger with me, Narcissa." By this time, Severus was dressed. He combed his fingers through his hair and hurried into the loo to brush his teeth. She stood behind him at the sink, one hand on her hip.

"I'm not going back to live with Lucius, Love! I can't!"

Severus rinsed and spit, wiped his mouth, and turned back to her. "Not forever. But I want you at Malfoy Manor. I want you to hide there. Stay in the attic, perhaps. But be seen first. I do not want the Dark Lord to suspect you've been with me. Ensure you're seen, lie to Lucius… tell him… Tell him you stayed at the Three Broomsticks, that you got a room there and paid Rosmerta to lie to him when he inquired about you." He handed Narcissa her toothbrush and continued to speak as she brushed her teeth. "Say you saw him… say you were coming down the stairs yesterday when you spotted him sitting with me at the table at the far left back corner, so you hurried back up the stairs. He was wearing gray, dark gray. Use Occlumency. Use it the entire time you're there. Keep your mind clear, especially around your sister and the Dark Lord."

"Severus?" Narcissa's voice trembled. She placed the toothbrush back in its holder and turned to face him. "Please, Love, I can't…"

"You have to!" He hurried into the sitting room with her on his heels and grabbed her dress from where she'd slung it over the couch. He tossed it to her. "Get dressed. We need to have you back here before He returns. Why the hell did I send that blasted house elf away? She could have apparated you directly. That was stupid of me. Damn it, Severus. Think!"

Narcissa found her bra, slipped it on under her slip, then put on her dress. He zipped her up without her even having to ask, which brought tears to her eyes. That was the sort of thing a husband would do.

"He's going to figure out I've been working to protect Potter," said Severus, pacing. "I knew He would. I was sure, eventually, He would, but I'd hoped, by then, we'd be closer to defeating Him!" He rushed back into the bedroom and returned with a long, plain black traveling cloak. He put it on her the way a parent puts a jacket on a child, all the while continuing to worry aloud about what this break-in meant for the Wizarding world, for the war, for Potter, and for them. She bit her bottom lip so hard it started turning white. He tapped her hip and the cloak become smaller, shorter, and slightly more fitted. He was no master at domestic transfiguration but it would cover her scar and keep her warm, which he figured was enough for now.

"Don't reveal anything to Lucius yet. I want us to do it together. Keep your mind clear. Tell him only what I've said you should. Say the same to your sister. Don't bite your lip…" He drew his thumb across it, prompting her to stop biting. "And don't twirl your hair. Clear your mind. Empty yourself of all emotion. Ensure you're seen, then hide. But don't act like you're hiding. Take a book…" He grabbed the Murder at the Vicarage off the shelf, shrunk it down to half its size, and shoved it in the pocket of the robe. "This way if anyone finds you hiding, you can pretend you were simply looking for a quiet place to read away from everyone. It'll be less suspicious that way. And take this!" He hurried over to the place where he kept his potions. She held out her hand, expecting him to give her the Stomach Settling Solution or Draught of Peace, but instead he place he placed into her palm the potion. The abortion potion.

"Severus?" She tried to give it back but he wouldn't take it. Her voice shook with the sobs she tried to subdue as she tried again. "Please, take it back!" He shook his head, closing her fingers around it. "Why, Severus? Why are you giving me this? I won't take it. I love you. You love me. You're going to marry me, remember? I'm going to be your wife and take your name and live with you and bear your children?"

"I want that," he said. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Don't cry. Please don't cry. I only… I want you to bring it with you… just in case."

"Just in case what?"

"I don't want you to feel trapped."

Her tears wet the front of his robes. She could barely get out her next words. "I d-don't f-feel tr-trapped! I l-love you!"

"I love you, too, but… but if something should happen to me, if… if the Dark Lord kills me, if He learns that I'm a traitor, if He should want to take His fury out on another… I want you to have the option, Narcissa. Put it in your pocket." He took it from her and put it in there with the shrunken book. "Don't take it today. But if something… should happen… I want to know I've given you a way out."

"I can't go back to Malfoy Manor, darling, I can't!"

"Come here." He pulled her into an embrace, breathing deeply, wishing he could see the future. "Shh, it's alright. It'll be alright…" He tried to release her but she clung to the front of his robe.

"Not yet. Hold me awhile longer?"

Her eyes were so wide, so desperate, he couldn't say no.

"I suppose we can postpone your departure for a few more minutes." He lifted her, the way he had that very first time, and carried her to the couch, settling her in his lap. She snuggled against him as he buried his face in her hair, wishing they had options, wishing they could think of other options. He kissed her temple and wiped her tears on his sleeve.

"June 30th, 1997," he said.

She lifted her head to make eye contact. "What?"

"That's when I… I fell for you then. I told myself I didn't. I was in denial. I've been in denial. I couldn't admit it, couldn't accept it, but in the back of my mind, I knew… That's why I spent the next six months avoiding you, trying to forget you, sleeping with other women to get over you."

"That was the night Dumbledore… died."

"Yes. You asked me not to leave you but I knew I should because if I didn't leave then, I wouldn't want to leave."

"I didn't want you to leave."

"I didn't leave. I stayed. I knew I shouldn't, but I stayed. And I kissed you. Then I took you to bed."

"You made love to me."

"Yes." He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her neck, remembering how he'd spent most of the night with her in his arms, sneaking out just before sunsrise.

"You called me yours. You called me 'My Narcissa.'"

"Yes. I wanted it to be true."

"It was true. It _is_ true." She kissed him. "I'd missed you terribly since that day you… when you got angry with me."

"I'm sorry I threw you out."

"We didn't speak again until that night."

"Incorrect." He took her hand and brought it up, placing a kiss on her inner wrist. "I stopped by Malfoy Manor on Draco's birthday, remember? We chatted for nearly half an hour. When I left–"

"You kissed my hand," she finished. "I'd forgotten. I was so sad, then. It's all a blur. Same goes for the next several months. I drank too much. I cried a lot. I sent you Owls."

"Which I ignored. I know. I'm sorry." He kissed her hand again, the way he had on Draco's birthday. "I thought I was doing what was best. For everyone. But then I saw you the night your sister was hurt and you looked so beautiful…"

She chuckled. "Beautiful? Please. I was drunk. My eyes were bloodshot and tired. My hair was brittle and graying. I don't think I'd eaten in two days. I was in my dressing gown, for goodness sakes."

"I know," he said. "I remember your eyes and your hair and your dressing gown. You were beautiful."

"Oh, Severus."

He needed to make her leave. She needed to return to Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord might already be there. He might already be punishing Bellatrix. He might already be wondering why Malfoy's wife was missing. He might already know about the fake sword…

But, as he'd done so many times in their short history together, Severus ordered caution and common sense to sod off and captured her lips with his. She was the first to deepen the kiss, flicking her tongue against his lower lip, then sliding it into his mouth to battle his own. He couldn't help letting out a grown as he repositioned them to be beside each other on the couch, even though there wasn't room like this, and he held her to keep her from falling as they kissed again and again. He ended up on top of her, touching her, wanting her, just one time, just this one time… what if it was the last time? What if the Dark Lord discovered his betrayal and killed him and he'd wasted his last morning in this life _not_ making love to the woman he loved?

Her hands roamed over his back, her fingernails scratching him through the fabric of his robe, as she brought up her knee so she could wrap her leg around his waist. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest, and asked him to take her.

"I want to, Narcissa, I can't tell you how badly I want to, but we've already taken up too much time. I have three priorities. The first is keeping you and our baby safe. The second is ensuring the Dark Lord is defeated by Potter. And the third is staying alive. I can't worry about the second and third if I'm unable to do the first. You have to return to Malfoy Manor." With a sigh, and one final kiss on the tip of her nose, he rose off of her, making his way toward the sitting room door.

Her eyes filled with tears again but they did not spill over. She rested on her knees, staring at him over the back of the couch.

"Severus?" She tilted her chin down and looked up at him in the way that drove him crazy. "In the notebook, I'd asked you a question. What did you answer?"

"You asked me if I'd thought about the possibility of us."

"Yes."

He went to her, lifting her over the back of the couch, set her down, and took her in his arms with his grip tight around her upper body. As much as he knew she needed to leave if she was going to make it back to Malfoy Manor before the Dark Lord returned, he was equally unwilling to let her go.

"Severus?"

"I replied. But it wasn't… Don't read it. It's not how I feel now."

She closed her eyes. "It's how you felt four days ago."

"A lot can happen in four days, Narcissa." He closed his, too, holding her, trying to tell himself he was overreacting. The Dark Lord might not find out about the sword switch. He might assume Potter had done it, left a fake in place of the real one. He might be too concerned over whatever else was supposed to be in the Lestrange's vault to give a flying fuck about what Severus had sent there.

"This is only temporary, Narcissa. By giving you the potion and sending you back there, I am merely being cautious. I still fully intend to marry you. We're still going to tell Lucius and Draco. I'll help you go into hiding, if that's what needs to happen, and I'll flee too if there's no other way. I'll do my damndest to ensure Potter defeats the Dark Lord and then our focus will be on staying out of Azkaban – I believe Dumbledore can help with that. He saved memories to be viewed in the Pensieve just in case. We're going to be okay. You're still going to marry me and be my wife and take my name."

"And live with you and bear your children." She kissed his shoulder.

"Yes."

"Do you think the Dark Lord will come here, to Hogwarts?"

"I hope not."

"I'm worried about Draco. Perhaps he should return to Malfoy Manor with me?"

"That would only arouse suspicion. He's safe here. I'll keep him safe."

"Perhaps I should go to Andromeda, beg her to hide me. Me and Draco. No one would think to look for us there."

"Andromeda, in addition to being estranged from you, is not happy with me at the moment either. She requested I… I cannot give you details and I won't lie to you, but suffice it to say she thought I could help her husband when I could not."

"Lucius killed him? He said he wasn't sure."

"Lucius killed him." Severus sighed. "He is either lying to you or to himself. He's sure."

"Oh." Narcissa's nose twitched. She felt on the precipice of tears again but kept them at bay.

"No one can know about us for the moment, Narcissa. It's safer that way."

"Okay." She sniffled. "Is it awful to admit that I really, really need a drink?"

"No, but try to fight it." He touched his lips gently to hers, which parted, as her hand found its way to the back of his neck. She felt butterflies in her stomach as his hand had just snaked up from her waist to her chest over the traveling cloak… and under the traveling cloak… when a pounding at the door of his office made them both jump. Someone had gotten past the gargoyle, which was impossible, since Severus hadn't revealed the new password (Lily) to anyone, not even the Heads of House.

"Let me in, Snape!" called the familiar voice of Bellatrix Black Lestrange. "Severus! Please! Open the door!"

"What is _she_ doing here?" hissed Narcissa, backing away as if Bella could see them.

"I have no idea!" he replied honestly. "But she's an idiot for leaving Malfoy Manor when the Dark Lord has strictly forbidden her from doing so!"

"Severus Snape!" Bellatrix continued to pound her fist on the office door. "I know you're in there!"

"I'll make sure she departs. Then, the moment it's safe, you must do so as well."

"And you'll keep yourself safe?" asked Narcissa. "Yourself and my Draco?"

"Yes." He leaned down to kiss her again but the shrill voice of Bellatrix outside his door interrupted. He let out a frustrated puff of air. "Stay quiet."

He closed the sitting room door and went to the office door, which she was still pounding on.

"Who is it?" he snapped, as if he didn't know. He opened the door. His dark eyes widened when he saw her. She looked a mess. "You…? What…? Get in here."

She entered. He closed the door. She slipped sleeping Nova out from under her cloak.

His mouth dropped open. "You brought the baby?"

"No," said Bellatrix snidely. "I left her at home, alone. She's a whole two months old now, practically self-sufficient, can even change her own nappies."

"She'd better be left home," he replied, "She'd better be a figment of my imagination. Because the Dark Lord's going to kill you for leaving, then bring you back to life and kill you again for taking _her_ out of Malfoy Manor, and then who'll be left to play Mummy?"

She sighed, momentarily defeated. "Snape, I need help. That's why I'm here. It couldn't wait."

"What is it with the women in your family?" he asked, feigning exasperation. "Why look to me for help?"

"Who else in my family is looking to you for help?"

In her arms, baby Nova roused. With a whimper, she opened her eyes and blinked up at the lights above, mildly curious but mostly unfocused. The whimper became a cry.

"Shh," cooed Bellatrix, slightly bouncing her. She slipped her index finger into the baby's mouth. Nova ceased crying and, comforted, immediately began to suck. "Yes, that's right. Back to sleep. Mummy's trying to work our way out of this mess."

"Which mess?" asked Severus in his usual drawl. "Leaving despite being expressly forbidden to do so? Bringing _that_ out –" he indicated the infant, "Even though you know He wants no one to know of her, or…"

"Surely you heard about Gringotts?"

"I heard, yes."

"He's going to kill me, Severus!"

"Since when are we on a first name basis, Lestrange?"

She bristled. "You know I'm not using my husband's name anymore. But it's neither here nor there. Please, you've got to do _something_. The Dark Lord trusts you. He values you. He… years ago, He made you a promise didn't he? He promised he wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't kill her, but He did, didn't he?" She sounded mad, desperate. He opened his mouth to reply but she barreled on. "He owes you, doesn't He? He owes you a favor. So… so perhaps you could ask Him… He could spare me my punishment… and in exchange…"

"There is nothing you could offer me in exchange, Bellatrix, that would entice me to beg him for mercy on your behalf." (If he was going to beg on behalf of anyone, after all, it would be the woman he loved, not her loathsome sister.)

"Really?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to him, her eyes looking him up and down. "I'm sure I could think of something."

"You're not going to appeal to me using sex," he said, voice dripping with disdain, hoping Narcissa couldn't hear this through the door. "For one, you're not half as attractive as you used to be."

"I've lost more than half the baby weight…"

"I don't mean that, though I do have to say it's fascinating to see you attempt to behave seductively whilst cradling an eight-week-old. Not a good look for you. But I meant you're not half as attractive as you were before Azkaban."

"You do fourteen years in that hell and come out of it looking good." She glared at him, but it was clear he'd wounded her, as she'd always taken pride in her looks. She was aware of the negative effect prison had had on her skin, her shape, her teeth, her hair… her mental state… but fuck, she could – and did – still turn heads. "I seem to recall a time just after I got out of Azkaban during which you felt quite differently."

Thanks to his abilities as an Occlumens, he appeared unmoved, though inwardly he was half-panicked, hoping beyond hope that Narcissa couldn't hear. "A momentary lapse in judgment, I assure you."

"I'll have you know there are plenty of men who would gladly _risk their lives_ just to lay down with me."

"Good," said Severus. "Get one of them to address the Dark Lord for you."

She switched to a different tactic: pouting. "Please, Snape. I need help. I need you. I'm scared."

"Come off it." He waved her away as if she were but a bug. "That look suits you even less."

She employed a third tactic, this time addressing him more menacingly. "He seeks the allegiance of the Elder Wand, Snape. He has it in His possession, He has for two months…"

"I'm aware," said Severus, but she interjected.

"Only He has failed to truly gain its power. Why do you suppose that is?"

"I don't know, Bellatrix." He rolled his eyes. "Tell me."

"Because of you. You killed Dumbledore. You, Snape, are the true master of the Elder Wand, and as long as you are still alive, the Dark Lord won't…"

"Are you threatening me?" He took several steps forward, so much so she had to step back until she hit the bookcase behind her. Her finger left the baby's mouth. The baby began to cry. As much as she'd hate to admit it, Bellatrix rather felt like crying too.

"I'm simply saying…"

"Do not threaten me, Bellatrix. It would be most… unwise… for you to put such an idea in the Dark Lord's head. Understand? Now you should leave. He will be expecting you when He returns to Malfoy Manor."

"I have to do something!" she cried desperately over the infant's wails. "I'm desperate!"

"I am not interested in taking advantage of your desperation, nor do I believe it is prudent for you to be here at all. I think you have forgotten who I am. I am the Headmaster of this school, an agent of the Dark Lord, and a capable potions master. Nowhere in any of my job descriptions have the words 'family counselor' ever appeared."

"Who else in my damn family is coming to you for counseling?" she asked, realizing he hadn't answered her when she'd asked a short time ago.

"When Andromeda wanted to get a message to you concerning her daughter, she came to me. When Narcissa wanted protection for her son in light of his task, she came to me. Now you want someone to appeal on your behalf to the Dark Lord, so you've come to me."

"What can I say?" asked Bellatrix, trying to look sweet. "We like you."

He stared at her for a long moment before cracking up. "No, you don't! You hate me!"

"Well, Narcissa likes you, I think."

"I would think so," he agreed, fighting back a smirk, as he was unable to stop himself from picturing her as she was the morning before, pleasuring him. He put it out of his mind. "And Andromeda seems to like me."

"Are you sleeping with Andromeda?"

"Why are you always so concerned about with whom everyone is sleeping? No, I'm not. Despite being widowed, she has no interest in any man besides her husband, nor has she ever. That is the difference between her and the two of you. She married for love."

"She married a Mudblood."

"At least her husband never ran around behind her back, right?" He smiled, which pissed Bellatrix off even more. "Not that you didn't do you own fair share of running around."

"Damn it." She moved the baby to a vertical position, supporting her body with her left arm and stroking her hair with her right hand. Bellatrix bounced the baby lightly, but Nova would not stop crying. "Do you mind if I feed her? She'll only stop if I feed her."

"Do I mind…?"

Without waiting for further response, she unbuttoned her dress and drew down her bra, allowing the baby to latch on. Catching his semi-horrified expression, she laughed.

"It isn't as if you've never seen me half-naked before, Snape."

"This is different," he said, disgusted. "It's… humanizing."

"Sod off."

"You're charming, has anyone ever told you that?"

"I fucked you one time and you can't get over it, is that it? Is that why you won't try to help me?"

"You fucked me twice," he pointed out, expressionless, but overwhelmed with contempt for her, which made him forget that her sister was hiding behind the door. "Remember?"

"And you alone saw what he did to me the last time he was angry, Severus! You, of all people…"

Before she could finish, they were both startled by the sound of the sitting room door opening, pushed so hard it slammed against the wall.

"You slept with Bellatrix?"

It was Narcissa, of course. Her eyes were still worried, frightened, tired, and worn, but he could also see the betrayal in them. Her hands shook from fury.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Bellatrix shook her head as if she couldn't quite believe her own eyes. "You and Snape?"

" _You_ and Snape!" replied Narcissa. "When?" She shifted her glare to Severus. It hurt him, physically hurt him, to see this pain in her eyes, pain he caused (albeit inadvertently). " _Twice_?"

"I'm lost," said Bellatrix. "I need to sit down."

"No!" Severus' bark made her jump. "No, you cannot sit down, you need to leave! Hide that baby, hurry to the edge of school grounds, apparate back to Malfoy Manor, and pretend this never happened like you pretend _most things_ never happened."

"I can't go back there! He's going to kill… to kill… He…" Bellatrix's thought trailed off as she and Severus both felt heat emanating from the Dark Marks on their left forearms. They exchanged a look.

"What is it?" asked Narcissa, tugging anxiously at the sleeves of her borrowed traveling cloak. "Are you being summoned?"

"No," murmured Bellatrix. "But He is getting closer. And He is angry."

"We must go," whispered Narcissa, finally accepting that she would have to return to Malfoy Manor, at least for now. She turned to Severus, trying to hide how hurt she felt. "You'll keep Draco safe?"

"You know I'll do as I can, Narcissa," he said, his voice wooden as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Bellatrix Lestrange was one of the two people he was most desperate to keep this secret from, and now she was the first to know.

"And you'll keep yourself safe?" asked Narcissa.

He nodded. "I said I'll do as I can and I will."

Her eyes darted from him to her sister and back again. She started to walk toward the door but, acting on sheer impulse, she ran back to him and pressed a kiss to his lips. He allowed his eyes to close just for a moment, only slightly pressing back, as he momentarily considered asking Narcissa to Obliviate Bellatrix. Why couldn't she just have stayed quiet, stayed put? He could have explained everything after her sister had gone. But now?

"Thank you," Narcissa whispered. "It's all I ask. I love you."

"It's mutual," he murmured without moving his lips, speaking so softly even Narcissa almost couldn't be completely certain she'd heard the words.

"The fuck?" Bellatrix repositioned the baby, sizing up Severus and her sister, wondering if they'd gone mad, or if she had.

"Let's go," said Narcissa. Though it meant revealing the scar, she removed the traveling cloak and threw it over Bella's front, hiding baby Nova from the world, and guided her toward the door. "I'll explain at home," she said, with no idea what she could possibly say that would hide their affair, now that she'd just said "I love you" in front of her sister.

"Better be some explanation," said Bellatrix.

Severus closed the door behind them, without another word. He rested his forehead against the cool wood, trying to wrap his brain around the events of the morning, and sick with worry about whatever was coming next. He supposed all there was left to do was wait.

"You slept with her sister?" asked the voice of Dilys Derwent from her portrait. She took his sigh as confirmation. The former Headmistress shook her head, clearly disappointed. "Oh, Severus. Severus, Severus, Severus. How could you?"

"It was a long time ago," he said. He glared at the painting of Dumbledore, as if this were all the old man's fault. "I'm going to take a shower. Not that what I do is any business of yours."

Meanwhile, Narcissa and Bellatrix were hurrying toward the main entrance of Hogwarts. Thankfully most of the students must have already gone to the Great Hall for breakfast, or perhaps to class, as the corridors were mostly empty, though the few kids they passed looked upon them with suspicion – and, upon recognizing Bellatrix, with fear.

"I'll explain at home," Narcissa began again as they made their way out to the castle grounds. " _After_ you tell me when and why you slept with Severus."

"It's not much of a story," Bellatrix said offhandedly. "But if you truly want to know, I'll tell you."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, lost in their own thoughts and worries, until they'd almost reached the apparition point. Bellatrix clutched Narcissa's wrist, ordering her to stop.

"What? Why are we stopping?"

"Before we return, I have to know. What do you owe Snape?"

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused. "What?"

"After you kissed him. You said, 'Thanks, I owe you.' Why?"

Narcissa shook her head, about to correct her sister, but thought better of it. Bella didn't need to know she'd told Severus she loves him, did she? No… this seemed as good a time as any to test out her Occlumency skills… and lie.

"I am worried about Draco and whatever the Dark Lord has planned for him. I asked Sev– Snape – I asked Snape to keep watch over him, to keep him safe, and in exchange… I… I said I owe him."

"What, like sex? You owe him sex?" Bella looked repulsed by this notion.

As much as it pained her to have to pretend what she had with him was an exchange of services rather than a relationship, Narcissa nodded, pushing away from the forefront of her brain his words last June, the night he says he fell in love with her – "You never owe anybody sex, Narcissa." She was glad he couldn't hear her now.

"Cissy," said Bella, digging her nails into Narcissa's wrist. "I'll keep Draco safe, Love. You help me with my child and I'll help you with yours. We're sisters. That's what we do."

"I… thanks, Bella." She continued walking down the path to Hogsmeade, pulling her sister with her. "We need to get back to Malfoy Manor, don't we?"

"He's going to kill me," Bellatrix said softly, her voice wavering. "If He kills me, you'll raise Nova, won't you?"

"Of course."

They'd reached the outskirts of the village, beyond the protective wards surrounding Hogwarts. They could apparate now. Narcissa took her traveling cloak back from Bellatrix, who sniffed the baby's head. A tear dripped down off her nose and landed on Nova's soft hair.

"I don't want to die, Cissy. Though if I do, you'll…"

"I'll take care of her, Bella. But don't worry. You're not going to die."

Bellatrix removed her slender fingers from around Narcissa's wrist, taking her hand instead.

"Let's apparate together."

They did.

They hurried across the grounds, through the gate, and up the path to the front door, which was ominously already open. They never left the door open. This did not bode well.

Narcissa and Bellatrix exchanged a fearful glance.

"To be honest, I'm a bit upset with you right now," said Narcissa. "But I love you."

"To be honest, I'm a bit perplexed by you right now," said Bella. She reached out to tug Narcissa's hair. "But I love you, too."

They entered together. The Manor was eerily silent, and then they heard Him.

"Ah, look who's finally decided to grace us with her presence! In the drawing room, Bella." Bellatrix moved to hand the baby to Narcissa, intending for them to scurry away, but the Dark Lord called, "You too, Cissy."

Bella took a deep breath, hugged her daughter to her chest, and walked (head held high) into the drawing room. Narcissa trailed behind her.

How could Bellatrix look so unbothered in this moment, so purposeful, so haughty? Narcissa was positively trembling. She was certain the Dark Lord had never called her Cissy before, no one did, save for Bellatrix, thus His use of it now terrified her, perhaps irrationally.

No, not irrationally.

The man was a cold-blooded indiscriminate murderer. Her terror was entirely justified.

They entered, unsure of what they'd find. There were a dozen wizards and several goblins in the drawing room, all kneeling on the floor, staring up at the Dark Lord with the same terror in their eyes that Narcissa felt in her heart. Lucius was standing with the Lestrange brothers against the far wall, the one Severus had leaned against when eavesdropping on Claudia and Catheryn a dozen years ago. The Dark Lord barely looked at Narcissa, who hurried to stand beside her husband, figuring anything else would look unnatural.

"Give me the baby," hissed the Dark Lord. "You dared to bring it out of the Manor?"

Bella clutched her infant more tightly, unwilling to comply. "I… I'm sorry, my Lord. I…"

He grabbed her by the hair and threw her to her knees. She managed to catch herself with one hand while holding the baby in the other. She looked to Him with an expression of mixed emotions – fear, responsibility, regret… and love. The Dark Lord raised a hand as if to hit her and Bella flinched. Narcissa's stomach lurched, but it wasn't because of the baby inside her. In this moment she was picturing Lucius' mother, Claudia, who would flinch when her husband got angry, and for the first time she truly comprehended the fact that her sister, despite being married to Rodolphus Lestrange, was in an abusive relationship with the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord did not hit Bellatrix, not this time, but He did train His wand on her for an uncomfortably long moment. She scrambled back into a corner and huddled there, cradling Nova, her dark hair falling over her face and hiding them both. She was no longer cool and collected. She was shaking.

Suddenly, Narcissa was not shaking. She went unusually still. She felt a bit angry. Severus sent her back here to be safe? What the fuck was he thinking? _'Clear your mind,'_ she ordered herself. Her eyes went blank.

"That vault was supposed to be safe," the Dark Lord hissed. "That vault was supposed to be protected. How did they manage to penetrate it?" He pointed his wand at the goblin Griphook. "You helped them."

"No, my Lord," he said. The Dark Lord slashed the air with his wand, creating a gash across the goblin's face. "We believe they used Polyjuice Potion but I did not help them."

"You lie! Liar!" He pointed His wand at Bella again, without looking in her direction. "Crucio!"

She pitched forward, struggling to hold the baby despite the pain. Narcissa instinctively stepped forward to take Nova, but the Dark Lord stopped her.

"You remain where you are."

Bellatrix whimpered. He turned His attention back to her, lifting the Curse. "They used Polyjuice Potion. The girl looked like you. She had your wand. When did she get your wand, Bella?"

"When… when we had them over Easter…" she said, knowing full well He was already aware of this.

"When you _let them go_?"

She nodded. He cursed her again. This time, she let out a small, anguished scream. But still the baby remained silent. Perhaps most frightening for Narcissa was the fact that the baby remained silent.

"Is that when she procured a bit of your hair, Bella? Is that how she did it? When you were on top of her?" He moved closer to Bellatrix, gliding noiselessly across the floor, and again took hold of her hair. He yanked it, forcing her head back. Her eyes were glassy but she was not crying. "You were carving Mudblood into her arm while she was stealing your hair with the intention of stealing your identity." He pressed the tip of His wand to her temple and said in a harsh tone, "Legilimens."

Narcissa had no idea what was happening in her sister's head, but given her previous conversations with Severus, she assumed the Dark Lord was using His considerable talent as a Legilimens to insert devastating images into Bella's brain.

The eldest Black sister fought back sobs, clutching the baby as if for dear life. The infant's sleepy eyes opened. Nova looked up at her twitching, aching, injured mother, with an expression of mild curiosity. Her eyebrows pulled together in the center, as if she was concerned, when a tear escaped Bella's eye, rolled down her cheek, and splashed onto the infant's cheek. Narcissa couldn't take it, seeing her sister suffer in this way. She couldn't stand seeing her cry. Just when Narcissa was about to open her mouth and beg Him to stop, the Dark Lord removed the tip of His wand from Bella's temple. She immediately choked back her tears, ducked her head, and hid the baby from view under her hair.

He next directed the Cruciatus toward one of the kneeling wizards, then another, then a third, until they'd all felt it. He then cursed both of the Lestrange brothers in turn, telling Rodolphus He was wrong to trust him, before turning on Lucius and the goblins.

"In the unlikely event it is not obvious," He said in a low, aggravated whisper when all but Nova and Narcissa had endured the effects of the Curse, "I am displeased."

Now His wand slashed through the air over and over and over again as wizards and goblins alike fell to the floor, blood pouring from jagged wounds in their faces and torsos. Lucius grabbed Narcissa's hand and scrambled toward the drawing room door, which slammed shut seemingly of its own accord, trapping them with the Dark Lord. Not releasing her hand, Lucius forced Narcissa behind him, pinned between his back and the wall. Rabastan and Rodolphus both cowered on the floor near the sealed door, certain they'd be next. Bellatrix, on the other hand, had not moved. She remained on her knees, bent at the waist, protecting her daughter.

Narcissa stood stock still. Her fingers were going numb thanks to her husband's tight, protective grip on her hand. Considering their last interaction was the night they'd fought and she'd left him, she supposed it was nice he'd at least tried to save her alongside himself.

The Dark Lord continued His tirade, torturing and killing those kneeling one after the next, while the others watched and when it was over all were dead save for the two Malfoys, the three Lestranges, the unnaturally silent baby, and the Dark Lord Himself.

He walked the length of the room between the dead bodies, hissing a message to the snake, Nagini, in Parseltongue. He was barefoot but didn't seem to mind the blood on His feet. Narcissa's eyes gaze followed His movements. So many dead bodies, here, in the room where she'd entertained so many dignitaries and Ministry officials and friends and family, the room in which they'd held all of little Draco's birthday parties… the room in which she'd been made to lie on broken glass and nearly been raped. Her situation with Severus aside, this Manor no longer felt like home, and she knew it never could again.

Her eyes widened and her heart skipped when she spotted the long, silver sword in the hand of the goblin, Griphook. Was it the real one or a fake? Did the Dark Lord know Severus had switched them? The sword suddenly glittered and, without attracting the attention of the Dark Lord, disappeared.

She immediately pushed any thought of it from her head, employing Occlumency, picturing an ocean and a wall, trying to clear herself of all emotion. She looked to her sister, who was still cowered on the floor and wondered what Bella could possibly be thinking. How could she remain so devoted to this monster? How could she look upon Him with _love_?

When the Dark Lord reached the door, He turned back, staring down Bellatrix.

"You worthless, useless bitch," He said in harsh tone. "I have a pressing matter to attend to, but expect my punishment tonight when I return."

She did not glance up, did not respond.

"Mrs. Lestrange." He flicked His wand, forcing her to make eye contact with Him. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, my Lord. I shall expect…" Her voice cracked uncharacteristically. "I shall expect your punishment when you return."

"Good." He waved the hand not holding His wand. The drawing room doors flew open, slamming against the walls, allowing Nagini to slither out. With one final sneer, the Dark Lord disapparated.

Back at Hogwarts, Severus paced the length of his sitting room, certain he'd made a mistake by sending Narcissa back to Malfoy Manor with her sister. What had he been thinking? He'd panicked. He'd panicked, but he'd potentially sent her into far more danger than if he'd simply hidden her at Hogwarts. Damn it. Bloody hell. Fuck.

He was generally not a passionate man. Not an impulsive man. Not a man to act without considering the consequences of his action. But he'd panicked. He was not the type to panic. He had a temper, that was true. Narcissa had seen it. He'd once grabbed her by the arm, raised his voice, and thrown her out of his office, which he'd felt badly about for weeks afterward, but he meant it when he said he would never hurt her. There were times, though, when he'd gotten forceful with others, even violent. He'd received detention Sixth year for punching out none other than Wormtail (who'd made the mistake of insulting Severus' mother while James and Sirius weren't around to protect him). Then, in 1990, he'd roughed up a man he'd seen acting aggressively toward Septima outside the Hog's Head (she'd rewarded him for his small act of heroism two nights later, after explaining she'd tried to break it off with the man several times but he kept turning up). He'd shouted at Dumbledore a few times over the years (deservedly), he'd had some rather inappropriate daydreams centered around feeding Umbridge to the herd of thestrals (also deservedly), and most recently, he'd nearly killed the Potter boy (for sneaking a peak at his worst memories in the Pensieve. Definitely deservedly!).

That last one had happened only a week and a half before Narcissa first approached him. He was feeling vulnerable then. He didn't know how much Potter had seen, didn't know if the boy knew about his friendship with Lily – or worse, his infatuation with her. His love for her. And he hated that the boy had seen his humiliation at the hand of James Potter and Sirius Black. Humiliation witnessed by that weasel Wormtail, who cheered them on only to betray them years later, costing Sirius his freedom and the Potters their lives.

Perhaps he'd been wrong to send Narcissa away Perhaps he'd been…

"Ouch! What the…?" The Dark Mark on his forearm burned, but not in the way it would when being Summoned. It burned like the Dark Lord was close by. It burned like He was close by again… and angry.

Severus sank onto the couch, steadily breathing, ready for whatever was to come.

After the Dark Lord disapparated, Narcissa wanted to follow Bellatrix to her room, to talk to her about the two times she slept with Snape, but her sister refused.

"I need to be alone," she said. She scurried off, limping slightly, as if she had a cramp in her side. Which, Narcissa figured, she might, considering she'd just suffered the effects of Cruciatus Curse multiple times at the Dark Lord's hand.

"You and I need to talk," Lucius said, grabbing Narcissa by the arm. "Now."

He steered her toward their bedroom. Once they were inside with the door closed, he confronted her.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I was… I don't know." She twirled her hair as the lies Severus had told her to tell went out of her head. "I was out."

"You were out? It's been days! I've been worried sick!" He grabbed her upper arm. She tried to squirm away but he only tightened his grip. "Where the hell were you, Narcissa?"

"I was… with Severus."

"Excuse me? I want the truth." He forced her into a seated position on the end of the bed then towered over her, staring down, as if she were a naughty child. This was a position that used to intimidate her, but now it only made her angry.

"I said, I was with Severus." She shoved him backward when she stood, unwilling to be bullied, and yet determined to let him down gently. "Darling, I was with Severus."

"Since when? I saw him yesterday and he hadn't seen you."

"Lucius…"

"Were you pissed again? Is that it? He found out but he didn't send you home right away because you were drunk? Damn it, Narcissa. You can't keep going around getting wasted in public. You're going to develop a reputation and destroy what's left of the Malfoy family name. Not to mention what all that alcohol must be doing to your health."

"I wasn't pissed."

"You certainly were when I last saw you."

She inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. "Yes, alright, I'll concede that I was drunk when you last saw me. And I was still drunk when I left here that night. I went straight to Hogwarts, to Severus. He took care of me that night and helped me sober up the next morning."

Lucius turned away from her, staring intently at a random spot on the wall, forcing himself to keep calm. "You spent the night there?"

"Yes."

"In his sitting room?"

"No, Lucius. He let me sleep in his bedroom. I slept in his bed."

"And _he_ slept in the sitting room?" Lucius swept his hair back and faced Narcissa, clearly confused.

"No."

He shrugged. "I don't understand."

"I spent the night with Severus, darling. I was angry. I packed a bag. I… had told you I wanted divorce. I left you. I went to Hogwarts. I spent the night with Severus."

"Not in his sitting room?"

"No."

"In his bedroom? In his bed?"

She chewed her lip apprehensively. "…Yes."

"And… where did he sleep?"

"He slept in his bed, Lucius. We slept _together_. We've been sleeping together… I went to him when I left you and we've spent every night together since."

"No," Lucius shook his head. "You're lying. You must be. He told me he hadn't seen you."

"I'm not lying. Severus lied. He saw me. He took care of me. We slept together, beside each other, in the same bed."

"You mean… he let you share his bed, while he was in it?"

She raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to offer to draw him a diagram. How could he not be grasping this? "Yes, Lucius, that's what I mean."

"But not… not sexually?"

"Lucius!" She was growing exasperated. "Yes, sexually."

"I don't understand. Severus is my friend. And you're my wife, Narcissa."

"I'm aware." She settled on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap. "I'm sorry I slept with your friend, Lucius. But I'm…"

He didn't wait for her to finish. "You're my wife and he's my closest friend, and he said he hadn't seen you, but you claim to have been together? What happened, exactly? What are you saying? You're saying... You're saying you got drunk, you were angry with me, you left Malfoy Manor, you went to Hogwarts, and you threw yourself at Severus? Is that it?" He didn't give her the chance to respond. "What is wrong with you? I hope, before you left the school this morning, you made it clear that you're not going to see him again. That it was a one-time thing. I hope you told him so."

"I didn't throw myself at him and I can't tell him that."

"For fuck's sake, Narcissa! Fine, if you're uncomfortable, I'll tell him."

"No." She reached out to take his hand. "You can't tell him it's a one time thing and I won't either."

"Why not?"

"Because it wasn't. It's not."

"This has happened before?" He tore his hand away. "Before you left the other night?"

"Yes."

"You're saying you slept with him before?" Lucius set his walking stick down on the dresser. "Sexually? Severus?"

"Yes."

Lucius shook his head in an obvious state of disbelief. He threw up his hands. "When? How many times?"

"I… couldn't count."

"You couldn't count?" His voice rose, not in volume, but in pitch.

Narcissa twisted her intertwined fingers, wishing Severus was there to explain it with her.

"Are you…" Lucius again ran his hand through his hair, unable to look at his wife. "Are you telling me that you've been having an affair?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"For how long?"

"Two… just over two years."

"Just over two _years_?"

"Yes."

Lucius shook his head as if trying to rid his brain of a bad dream. "You've been fucking my friend for two years?"

"Yes."

"You've been screwing around behind my back for two years?" he asked, his voice small. Upon her nod, he flew into a rage, retrieving the walking stick and holding it up threateningly. "You've been screwing around behind my back for two fucking years?! For two fucking years, with my friend, you've been screwing around?"

She did not flinch. "To be fair, Lucius, you've been screwing around behind my back for twenty years."

"This is not about me!" he shouted, as he slammed the head of his walking stick down on the dresser top.

"Isn't it? Isn't it about both of us, Lucius? Our marriage is broken. It's been broken for years. And the cracks started to form with the very first affair you engaged in."

"Affair? I've only had two affairs, Narcissa. One with Endora and one with Juliet. Sex with other women… they weren't affairs, Narcissa. And the only reason I've had the two affairs I've had – I wouldn't have needed to if you hadn't frozen me out! You did it after Draco was born and again since, well, apparently since you've been fucking my friend."

"Oh, so sex with other women, that doesn't matter? You slept with my cousin…"

"That was business for the Dark Lord!" He slammed the head of the walking stick against the mirror over the dresser, causing the glass to shatter. Narcissa covered her face but it didn't fly as far as the bed.

"You slept with Hortensia…" she continued.

"Because you moved out of our bedroom!"

"And who else, Lucius? Who else has there been?"

"None of your damn business!" He grasped her upper arm and wrenched forward, forcing her back into a standing position, face to face. He lowered his voice to a growl that she felt all the way in the pit of her gut as he pressed the snake's head of the walking stick against the center of her chest. "Is that why you did this, Narcissa? To punish me? You tricked Severus into taking you to bed to punish me?"

"To punish you? To punish you!" She tried to pull away but he wouldn't release her. "It wasn't about _you_ , Lucius! Not really. It was about _me_! Lucius, I was dying inside. I was so sad, and so lonely. Until Severus. Until he made me feel like I was still worth something…"

"I made you feel worthless? How? When?"

"Every fucking day, Lucius!"

"I didn't know."

"How could you not know?"

"I didn't know. My father always said there were certain things you could do the woman you wanted to bare your children, and certain things you couldn't. And… the things I wanted… I couldn't… not with you. I couldn't do that to you. Not to the mother of my child. Not to the woman I love."

"Do you have any idea how I've felt?" Again she attempted to pull out of his grasp but he would not allow it. She continued to confront him anyway. "All these years? Do you have any idea how it feels to be married to a man – _to be in love with a man_ – who, over and over and over again – prefers the physical affection of someone else? Of _anyone_ else? You claim you've only had two affairs but you've taken to bed how many women? Can you even count?"

"There are certain things a man needs that he can't get from–"

"That he can't get from his wife, I know, you've told me"! Narcissa exclaimed, this time successfully escaping his hold. "Well, guess what? There are certain things this wife needed that she couldn't get from her husband. I didn't have an affair to punish you! I had an affair because of how terrible I felt about _me!_ How undesirable I felt, how lonely, how… how…" She backed away several steps, out of reach. "And I didn't have to _trick_ him, by the way. He was _happy_ to sleep with me. He didn't think I was too _old_ , or too _unattractive_ , or too _frigid_ …"

"You pathetic slag."

"Pathetic slag? One affair and I'm a pathetic slag, but you've been with countless women and what are you? There's no word for it, is there? There's no derogatory term for a man who sleeps around, but there are a dozen to describe a woman who has one affair! You know what? I'm not a slag, but I _was_ pathetic! I was! I was lonely and pathetic and so I went to Severus and he made me feel _good_ and I'm not sorry about it! I've cheated on you with _one_ man in all these years – _ONE_ – and you've been with how many women? How many! Give me a number, Lucius. Give me a number! How many? How many women, Lucius Malfoy?"

"I… I… I don't know, Narcissa!" He sputtered, his face purpling. "Twelve? Maybe Fifteen? Eighteen? I don't keep a bloody list! But I've never slept with one of your friends!"

"Are you daft? Endora was my friend, remember? And Nymphadora is my niece. Hell, you've been sleeping with my own cousin all fucking year!"

"You weren't really friends with Endora, you've never met your niece, and you hate your cousin. I like my friend!"

"At least your friend is an age-appropriate match for me! My cousin could be your daughter! Have you thought about that, Lucius? Have you thought about – if we hadn't lost that first baby – how old she would be now? Turning twenty-five. And how old is Juliet? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight? I've been sleeping with you for longer than she's been alive! And Nymphadora is how old? Twenty-four?"

"She's twenty-five."

"She's the same age our firstborn would have been."

"So you thought the best response to that perceived slight would be to throw yourself at my closest friend?" He glared at her with an incredulous air. He gripped the snake's head of his walking stick, willing himself to keep calm. She trembled slightly, afraid he'd hit her with it. Still, she'd gone too far to turn back.

"Why do you assume I had to throw myself at him?" The hurt was palpable in her voice. "What makes you think he didn't want me as much as I wanted him?"

"He's a man, Narcissa, and when it comes to women, men are weak. Especially men like Severus, who aren't exactly entertaining many offers. Men like him will take whatever's available to them." Lucius laughed bitterly. "Or did you think he actually cared about you?

"He does care about me!"

"Then why have you returned? You packed a bag, you left me, you went to Hogwarts… right? If he cares about you, why the fuck are you here?"

"He told me… he told me to come back home. He said I'm safer here, with you."

"Safer? How so? And how could he be sure I wouldn't punish you for this infidelity? If he cares so much about your safety, where the fuck is he, Narcissa?"

"I… I don't know… He was alarmed by the break in at Gringotts," she said, wishing her lover was there with her. "He believed the Dark Lord will be furious…"

"Damn it, Narcissa!" Lucius flopped onto the bed, dejected, the anger draining from his face. After a couple second's pause, he sat up and his head fell into his hands. "How could you do this to me? What did I do to make you hate me?"

"Hate… hate you? Lucius, I don't hate you." Despite her devotion to Severus and her desire to divorce her husband she couldn't help feeling terrible for having hurt him. She sat beside him on the bed and gently patted his knee. "I don't want to be married to you, but I could never hate you."

"You must hate me or you wouldn't have had a two year affair with my closest friend. You must, or you'd want to remain married to me."

"Lucius, you've been cheating on me for most of our marriage. Do you hate me?"

"What? No." He looked her in the eye and she knew he was telling the truth. "I love you, Narcissa. I've always loved you. I always will. Don't you know that I love you?"

"I know," she said softly. "But we aren't right for each other. Not anymore. Severus makes me happy, Lucius. Happy in a way I haven't been in years. I was in denial for a long time, but I know now, I want that happiness. And what's more, I want it for you, too. Perhaps you'll find it with Juliet, or with another woman, or even on your own, I don't know, but you can't pretend that you and I make each other happy."

He shook his head, again buried his face in his hands, and heaved a sigh. After a long silence, he looked up, tears in his tired eyes, and said, "Leave me, Narcissa. I need… space."

"Lucius…" She didn't want to leave it like this. Didn't want to leave _him_ like this.

"Please, Narcissa. You don't have to leave Malfoy Manor. If you're safer here, stay. Stay as long as you need to. But I need you out of my room. I can't… I can't look at you right now."

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll go."

After the discussion with Lucius, Narcissa went to her room to shower and change, then numbly continued down to the kitchen to forage for something to eat, not because she was hungry, but because the baby probably needed the sustenance. Her brain worked overtime as she prepared a light nosh. Between breaking her husband's heart and having her own broken by Severus, she felt sick and depressed. After choking down a sandwich she could barely taste and a cold glass of pumpkin juice, all Narcissa could think about was having a real drink. Just a little one. Just a sip. Her stomach churned. She placed her palm to it.

"I'll be good," she promised. She placed her dishes in the sink and went to Bellatrix's room. She needed answers and was determined to get them. She knocked and knocked until her sister answered.

"What do you want?" Bella asked rudely. Her breath reeked of liquor, her hair was a mess, her eyes were swollen, and her skin was paler than usual.

Narcissa could hear the baby wailing from inside the room and considered asking Bella if she was okay, but instead, she said, "I want to know why you slept with Severus. Twice."

"Fuck-shit-damn it, fine! Come in. Hurry up. I have to change the baby." Bella let Narcissa pass and closed the door behind her. Bellatrix grabbed the bottle of elf made red wine from the dresser top of took a swig. She handed the bottle to Narcissa, who took a long whiff, wondering whether just a sip would hurt.

Bellatrix removed the baby from the bassinet and placed her on the bed beside a clean diaper, then set to changing her.

Unable to stop herself, Narcissa took a long, slow sip of the wine. It calmed her nerves faster than the Draught of Peace, but as soon as she'd swallowed she felt guilt rising up from the pit of her gut. The guilt was quickly replaced by a different feeling – anger. Betrayal. Resentment. How could Severus had slept with Bella, of all women? And TWICE?

The baby squirmed as Bella wiped her. Narcissa shot her sister a disgusted look.

"Must you do that?" she snapped.

"No," said Bella sarcastically, "I usually let her change herself, like I told Snape, but since I'm here I figured I'd help her speed things along."

"I meant on the bed. You could put a towel down on top of the dresser and do it there. You know, when I was raising Draco, I used to send the squib girl into the nearest Muggle village for these disposable ones they have, you use once, then throw away, or Vanish."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I haven't yet handed my baby over to be raised by three house elves and a squib girl."

"I get it!" said Narcissa, throwing her hands in the air. "I was a bad mother! I know! You've told me, Mother told me, Andromeda's told me, hell, Lucius tells me all the time! I get it, okay! Everyone is a better damn mother to their babies than I was!"

Bellatrix smiled cruelly. "I don't disagree."

"Sod off!" Narcissa took another long swig from the bottle, washing down the guilt, but unable to suppress her upset, and hating herself more with every moment.

"Speaking of Andromeda," said Bellatrix. "You look just like her right now. She's got a drinking problem too."

"I haven't got a drinking problem," sniped Narcissa, not questioning how Bella knew this about their estranged sister. "I have a _stress_ problem. You told me you'd explain when and why you slept with Sev– with Snape. Well, I'm waiting."

"You first." Bellatrix pinned the new nappie in place, snapped shut Nova's soft cotton white one-piece sleep set, and placed on her back in the crib. The baby stirred for only a moment before falling asleep. "Tell me quietly. Don't wake her up."

"Oh, no." Narcissa shook her head, one hand on her hip, the other wagging a finger. "You first."

"Dammit. It's nothing, Cissy. I… if you must know, I took his virginity almost seventeen years ago and I did it solely because the Dark Lord told me to."

Narcissa stifled a gasp. He'd told her about that, he'd mentioned more than once that the Dark Lord had sent him a woman he didn't ask for, but he'd never revealed her name. Bella continued, "Your darling Snape was all torn up on account of that Mudblood girl he liked being marked for death."

"Lily Potter?"

Bellatrix was momentarily taken aback. "Yes. You knew?"

"He told me. Continue."

"Well, he begged the Dark Lord not to kill her and the Dark Lord said He wouldn't, but in the interim He said He thought Snape's problem was just that he needed a good shag. I mean, the man was twenty, twenty-one, and He'd never even properly kissed a woman. It was pathetic."

"So it's true then, what they say?" Narcissa settled herself cross-legged on the end of Bella's bed, her coffee-colored skirt flared out around her. "The Dark Lord's been passing you around for years. And here I believed you when you said He thought you were special. Turns out He just thinks you're easy."

This stung like a slap in the face, which is almost how Bellatrix responded to it (by slapping Narcissa across the face). Her hand twitched, but she kept herself calm. "He hasn't been _passing me around_ , thanks. He simply saw a problem within His ranks and thought I, given my considerable talent in that area, could solve it."

"Thus He whored you out to Severus Snape."

"He didn't _whore me out_ , Cissy," Bellatrix said through clenched teeth, remembering a similar argument with Snape months earlier. "And I don't flatback for him either!"

"I don't even know what that term means," said Narcissa, "But I don't think it's unfair for me to equate what you did on his demand with prostitution."

"It was nothing like that at all. He simply asked me to perform for Him a favor and that was the favor."

"Sex with His subordinate was the favor?" Narcissa laughed mockingly. "Sorry, but that sounds like the very definition of whoring you out."

"Take that back." Bellatrix aimed Rabastan's wand at her sister's chest. "You take that back, Narcissa Malfoy, or so help me…"

"Stop it." Narcissa pushed her sister's wand hand away. "You'll do nothing to me and you know it. You're only angry because you know I'm right."

"Well…" Pink spots formed on Bellatrix's pale cheeks. She _did_ know her sister was right, but she'd be damned if she'd admit it. "Snape wasn't exactly eager, in love with the Mudblood as he was, but I convinced him a little playtime was in his best interest. He should have been grateful, but instead he resented me for it. Can you imagine? I gave myself to him for an entire evening, as a _gift_ , and he woke up the next morning bitter and hung-over and remorseful."

"What do you mean, 'he wasn't exactly eager'?"

"I told him I was there on the Dark Lord's request. He tried to send me away, but I knew I couldn't leave until I'd done what I'd been sent to, so I had to seduce him a bit. A lot, really. I kissed him a few times, he protested, I touched and stroked him until he couldn't remember why he was protesting, I mixed him a drink, then another drink, I went down on him, he gave in, we messed around, I transitioned him from a boy to a man. You know, that sort of thing."

"Basically, you molested him until he consented?" So he hadn't lied, at least. He hadn't lied about not wanting her, about having to be convinced. He'd simply left off that the woman who'd accosted him was her sister.

"Don't be an imbecile, Cissy. A woman can't assault a man in that way."

Narcissa didn't feel up for an argument, but it certainly sounded _that way_ to her.

"I simply taught him what a woman's touch could feel like and he responded accordingly… eventually. Honestly, he wasn't very good, but _I_ was, so I don't understand _why_ he ended up resenting me for it when he should have thanked me. Didn't do any good in the long run, though. He was still wrapped up in that ginger Mudblood, so my efforts went unrewarded. I suppose I should have just told the Dark Lord 'no' in the first place and let Snape remain a damn virgin for the rest of his life, which you know as well as I he would have. I mean, really. Who else would want him?"

"There was a second time?" asked Narcissa coldly, ignoring those last remarks, tightening her grip on the bottle but resisting the urge to take a third sip.

"It was nothing," said Bellatrix dismissively. "Long ago and even less meaningful than the first time. Please. Now it's your turn. You told me Christmas day you were _not_ sleeping with Snape. I asked you straight out, multiple times if I recall, and you lied to my f…"

"I didn't lie!" Narcissa averted her sister's gae, simultaneously employing Occlumency, just in case. "At the time, I wasn't sleeping with Snape."

"But now you are? What, did I plant the idea in your mind?"

Narcissa bit her lip, unwilling to answer.

"Cissy, I asked whether you're sleeping with him now. I believe your silence has my answer, and yet..." Bellatrix grabbed onto her face, forcing eye contact, so she could probe Narcissa's mind. Despite Narcissa's best attempts to force her out, Bellatrix saw flashes of what looked like multiple trysts – at Spinner's End, at Malfoy Manor, at Hogwarts, in the Forbidden Forest, in that alleyway on New Years Eve...

"My, my, my," she said, backing away, as Narcissa furiously buried her face in her hands, visibly ashamed to have had her privacy intruded upon in this way. Bellatrix grinned wickedly. "Looks like you've had yourself a _lovely_ little affair!"

"It's nothing," Narcissa insisted. "Less meaningless than either time he's been with you."

"Not possible." Bellatrix climbed onto the bed, straddling her sister, and grabbed her face again. "Let's see more, Cissy, shall we?" She invaded into her sister's memories again, this time catching a glimpse of them on what looked to be that night Bellatrix was attacked, just before Christmas. Snape had Narcissa pinned against the hall in Malfoy Manor, one hand on her thigh, the other creeping up her side, his lips on her neck. Only steps away from the Dark Lord's door. A noise down the hall made them freeze…

"No, we shall not see more!" Narcissa shoved Bella, hard enough that she fell backwards onto the hardwood floor. "What's my business is… mine! Besides, shouldn't you be busy thinking up ways to convince the Dark Lord not to kill you when He gets here?"

A sick feeling twisted up in Bella's stomach. Narcissa was right.

"If you're going to be that way, leave me," Bellatrix demanded. "I want to be alone with my daughter."

Narcissa stood, offering a hand to her sister, who was still on the floor. Bella, pouting, ignored it.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm sorry that I pushed you. It's just… you push me all the time. You push me into revealing things to you that I don't want to, into doing things I don't want to do… you always have! I love you, you know I do, but these last few years… I'm exhausted, Bella!" Her eyes filled with tears. Bellatrix finally accepted the hand up as Narcissa continued her apology.

"I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't go on like this! I can't have Him in my home! I can't keep cheating on my husband but I also can't continue being married to a man who treats me the way Lucius does; it's gotten so much worse since his return from Azkaban." She almost admitted to wanting a divorce, but swallowed the words before they left her lips. She reached again for the bottle, but did not take a drink. It felt comforting enough simply to hold it. "I'm sorry, but I can't stand waking up every morning wondering if today is the day it all falls apart, the day I lose one of my sisters, or my husband, or a friend, or whatever it is I have with Snape, or… or… or… heaven help me, but every morning I wonder if _this_ is the day I lose my _son_!" Her voice broke on the last word. Gently, Bellatrix used her thumbs to wipe the tears from Narcissa's cheeks.

"I'm broken, Bella. I feel broken inside. I'm afraid all the time! I'm living with so many secrets, such terrible secrets, dangerous one, and I've never been good at keeping them but I have to or lives will be lost and Bella, I can't anymore, I just can't! That's why I went to Severus," she lied, hoping her sister would fall for this and accept that their affair was what it had been meant to be – strictly physical. "I was scared. I needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen and not make me feel flawed or pathetic or like a traitor to our side. He lets me _talk_ to him, Bella. I get to talk to him and then I sleep with him and it works out for both of us because I need someone to talk to and he needs… well, he's a man, you know what he needs, and I suppose maybe I need it to, to escape, to feel _wanted_ , to feel human, to feel like I'm not here for awhile, like I'm someone else, and I… and I… I don't want to lose my _son_ , Bella! You're a mother now, you must understand! Draco is my _everything_! I can't do it. I'm not like _you_. I'm not like _Andromeda_. I'm not headstrong or brave or independent or confident in my abilities. I mean… the Sorting Hat nearly put me in Hufflepuff!"

Bellatrix backed away several steps, uncomfortable but this showing of emotion, completely at a loss for how to halt the breakdown her sister seemed to be in the middle of.

"Hufflepuff?" she asked awkwardly, eyes darting at the crib, hoping Narcissa's noisy hysterics wouldn't wake the baby.

"Yes, Hufflepuff! I never told you or Meda because I knew you'd both make fun of me, but the Sorting Hat said I was loyal and patient and dedicated and that would do well there but all I remember thinking was 'please, no. Merlin's beard, no! You can't do this to me. I'll do _anything_ to be in Slytherin with my sisters. I'll _die_ in Hufflepuff. I'll _kill_ to be in Slytherin!' and he said, 'Well, if you want it so much you'd kill for it…' and the hat sent me to Slytherin but Bella I've always known I'm not like you and Andromeda! I'm not cunning or resourceful or sly or ambitious…"

"Stop it!" snapped Bellatrix, grabbing onto her sister's shoulders. "You _are_ all of those things, Cissy! Look at you! Look at yourself as I see you! You must be at least somewhat sly and resourceful to have carried on this fling of yours without getting caught, right? This affair that you entered into for purely selfish reasons? And you're certainly cunning. I heard about your efforts after the first war to keep yourself and Lucius out of Azkaban. You used every tool at your disposal, including appealing to Mother, didn't you? That miserable hag. And as for ambitious, well, you got pregnant to make Lucius marry you, right? Tell me the truth, it wasn't an accident, was it? You wanted to be a Malfoy because it was good for you, the prestige, the money, the security. You did it on purpose, didn't you? That's ambition."

Narcissa nodded. She was sobbing so hard she couldn't speak as all of the pain of the day – the hurt at being sent away by Severus, the fear she'd felt when the Dark Lord starting slinging Killing Curses, coming clean to Lucius – came out all at once.

"You're just scared. It's fine. We all are, sometimes… yes, even me. I don't want to die, you know, especially…" Bellatrix's eyes again darted to the crib in the corner. "Especially not now. But I have confidence in my abilities and I believe in our cause and I know everything will be alright."

"No!" shouted Narcissa, whose hands were shaking so hard she dropped her wand. Bellatrix picked it up and slid it into her sister's dress pocket. "No, you don't know, Bella! Andromeda thought everything would be alright! She thought her husband, on the run, would be safe, that he'd get away and someday, someday he'd come back to her, but he's not safe, is he? No! He's dead! And Draco, he thought he could carry out his task and kill Dumbledore but when it came down to it – well, you were there! – He froze! He froze, he couldn't do it! He's got a good heart, my Draco. He couldn't kill Dumbledore and he couldn't identify Potter and that… that… that _hesitation_ , it's going to get him killed! I've coddled him, partly to make up for what an awful mother I was when he was a baby, I've spoilt him and loved him and done everything I can to keep him safe and it might be for nothing, Bella, because we could all die any day, at any moment, and if Dumbledore's side doesn't kill us the Dark Lord might, so we're in danger from every direction! There's nowhere to go!" Still sobbing and now exhausted by this outburst, Narcissa slumped back onto the bed, unable to hold herself up. Without realizing she'd done it, she placed one hand over her abdomen, as if to reassure the baby inside.

Bellatrix was torn between being annoyed at her sister for showing such weakness and feeling compelled to wrap her arms around her and be her protector. It was the same when they were children. She was always both annoyed by her youngest sister's tears and pain _and_ spurred to action by them. Tonight, she chose the latter, wrapping her arms around her sister, lifting her back into a standing position, pulling her into a hug.

"Don't cry, Cissy. It won't be for much longer. We've almost killed Potter more than once. It's just a matter of time before the Dark Lord defeats him and with him, the entirety of Dumbledore's blood-traitor army will crumble, so there will be no more resistance to our cause. The Dark Lord will rule over the Wizarding World, restoring order and honor to all witches and wizards, and we'll be able to live out in the open as we deserve, not oppressed by Muggles or held back by Muggle-lovers. You and I and Draco and Lucius and… and Snape…" she shuddered at his inclusion, "We will be handsomely rewarded for our unending loyalty and service to Him! After it's over, you and I might even be able to convince Andromeda to see our side. Now that her husband is dead, she won't have him pulling her away from us anymore, she'll be able to see reality, to remember where she came from. We'll all be together again. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Cissy?"

Narcissa nodded, her tears soaking her sister's shoulder.

"I'm sorry you've been so lonely you had to sleep with Snape," added Bellatrix, smiling. "That must have been awful for you."

With a snort of barely concealed laughter, Narcissa pulled away. "It wasn't," she admitted, even though she wasn't ready to tell her sister everything. "He's actually very good. Much more attentive than Lucius."

"Yes, well… I suppose I taught him well, then."

Narcissa pushed Bellatrix playfully. "You did not."

"Okay, I did not, but _somebody_ must have because he used to be terrible. Or perhaps your standards are low, considering. Is Lucius the only other man you've ever been with?"

"You know he is." Narcissa slipped a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her runny nose. Her eyes, still damp, were red-rimmed and puffy from sobbing.

"There you go, then," said Bellatrix, snickering. "You've got little to compare Snape to. And I do mean _little_."

If Narcissa realized what Bella meant by 'little' she didn't let on.

"Speaking of Lucius, I need to go find him. He's been worried… since I left. And I need him to know… where I've been." Narcissa hurried to the door, but upon opening it, paused, looking back at her sister. "Bella? Do you really think Andromeda might come around once the war's over?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "She'd be stupid not to. What choice will she have? She'll need us."

"Yeah," agreed Narcissa, smiling slightly. "I think so too."

Narcissa left Bella's room, but she did not go find Lucius, as they'd already spoken and had nothing more to say. Instead she made her way back to the room, wine bottle in hand. She remained there, pacing, but somehow not drinking, for hours. Squeakers popped in around eight, to inform her that the Dark Lord had returned and was with her sister. She held out her tiny hands, in which she held a silver tray with apple slices, a meat pie, a cup of tea, and a mug of pumpkin juice. "Squeakers made this for you, Mistress Malfoy, ma'am. Mistress Malfoy must eat, ma'am. Mistress Malfoy should… should not drink the wine, ma'am."

"Set the tray on the table, Squeakers," ordered Narcissa. The little elf complied. Narcissa patted her on the head.

After she'd forced down the food (and left the untouched wine corked on her bedside table) Narcissa considered returning to Bella's room, to check on her, terrified of what she'd find. Would He have killed her? Beaten her? Raped her? Hurt the baby?

Narcissa was standing in the hallway, hand poised to knock but afraid to do so, when shuffling feet at the other end of the hall caught her attention. It was Lucius.

"My Dark Mark is burning," he said softly.

Narcissa opened her mouth to respond but couldn't think of anything to say. Just then, the door swung open. Bellatrix was there, baby in hand, looking better rested and happier than she had in some time, which Narcissa found utterly perplexing.

"This is it, kids!" Bella thrust the baby into Narcissa's arms. "We're going back to school, Lucius. The Dark Lord believes the so-called Golden Trio will be on their way there, they might have even arrived already. That means it's time. We're going to take Potter down once and for all!"

"At Hogwarts?" asked Narcissa. Her stomach churned. Severus was at Hogwarts. _Draco_ was at Hogwarts. Why would the Dark Lord want to face off against Potter at Hogwarts?

"Yes!" Bellatrix squealed. "It ends tonight. Let's go! Cissy, take good care of my baby buggy." She kissed Nova's head. "Mummy will be back for you soon, Love, and then we can introduce you to the world! You won't have to be your parents' secret much longer." She slipped her index finger into the infant's hand. Nova's tiny fingers closed around her mother's finger. "Tomorrow we say hello to a brand new Wizarding world. Be good for your auntie Cissy." She kissed the baby again, then grabbed Lucius' hand and pulled him down the hall. "See you soon, Cissy!"

"What? No!" Narcissa glanced around for someone to hand the baby off to, but obviously there wasn't anyone. "You can't leave me here! If you're going to Hogwarts, I want to go too!"

"Because your lover is there?" asked Lucius disdainfully. Narcissa shook her head.

"No, because my son is there." She snapped her fingers. Squeakers appeared. "Take the baby. I'll return for her shortly."

"Fine," said Bellatrix, rolling her eyes. "But the moment you find him, you come back here! I don't want my baby cared for by bloody house elves."

Narcissa called "Accio robe" and a long, black coat flew to her. It was much nicer and considerably more expensive than the one Severus had transfigured for her earlier, which she'd left in her bed. This one had a center slit and cinched at the fitted waist with an ornate silver belt.

Without speaking, she followed Bellatrix, who was hopping about excitedly, and Lucius, who moved crisply without revealing any emotion, to the apparition point.

"To Hogsmeade," said Bellatrix. "By the Shrieking Shack, as close as we can get to the school."

Lucius nodded. He looked to Narcissa. She nodded too.

"Let's go."

* * *

 **A/N:** If you read the Augury Origin trilogy I posted about Bellatrix, you'll know I took some timeline liberties with the post-break in, pre-Battle events on May 1st and with the start of the Battle of Hogwarts on May 2nd in order to give Bellatrix and Voldemort a proper private last scene together, which I loved at the time but have come to regret because it's hard to keep that fic gelling with this fic while also keeping as canon as possible. I also tried to fuse movie and book moments but kept Draco out of the drawing room scene, since it doesn't make sense for him to not be at Hogwarts on May 1. A lot going on here to transition from The Last (Good) Day to the Final Battle - drop me a review if you enjoyed (or, hey, even if you didn't!). Thanks for all the support! **–AL**


	48. The Battle at Hogwarts, May 2, 1998

**Chapter Forty-eight –The Battle at Hogwarts, May 2** **nd** **, 1998**

"You have fought valiantly," echoed the high, cold voice of the Dark Lord over the castle and all surrounding areas.

Narcissa froze. She'd been to the castle. She hadn't found her son. She'd heard many Slytherins had retreated to Hogsmeade, so she'd hurried back there, but still she did not find her son. Now she was in the Forbidden Forest, halfway back to the castle, the sense of foreboding increasing with every passing minute.

"Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery," He continued. "Yet you have sustained heavy losses."

The words "heavy losses" cut through Narcissa as if she'd been sliced in half by the stolen Sword of Gryffindor. Who was among those lost? Severus, she was certain, would be fine. He could take care of himself. He was a survivor. Strong. Smart. Severus knew when to battle and when to retreat. But Draco? He was still a boy, and boys are full of bravado and instinct and impulse, devoid of common sense or a healthy sense of self-preservation. She had to find him.

"If you continue to resist me," the Dark Lord's announcement continued, "You will all die. One by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste."

Though she knew he'd scold her for doing so were he present to see it, Narcissa reached up her index finger to anxiously twirl her hair. She peered beyond the trees, back toward the castle. Where could Draco be? He wouldn't have gone home and left his friends, of that she was positive, thus he had to still be in there… somewhere… Perhaps hiding. Perhaps fighting – but for which side? Perhaps he was hurt… or worse.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately."

Her breath hitched in her throat. They'd be leaving the castle. The battle would end. Maybe she could find him now.

"You have one hour," added the magnified voice of the Dark Lord. "Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

Dead. Injured. Which was Draco? Neither, she hoped.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child you has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

Narcissa let out an involuntary whimper. She closed her eyes, counting, first to ten, then to twenty-five, then continuing on her way to a hundred, but this mental exercise did not calm her. She was in the mid-eighties when a voice behind her made her blood run cold.

"Your lover is dead."

She opened her eyes slowly, turned to face the speaker, and rested her back against the tree behind which she'd been hiding. This was all she could do. She felt lightheaded, as though she might faint, and was therefore unable to take a single step. Around her the other trees swirled, becoming unidentifiable streaks of bark and leaves, as if she'd wandered into a painting of a forest that someone dumped water on, smearing the colors together.

"Cissy?" asked Bellatrix. She moved hastily forward until Narcissa was in reach, then tugged her sister's hair. "Did you hear me? Severus Snape. He's dead."

"I… I heard you."

But she couldn't have heard her correctly. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be. He was strong and smart. He knew when to battle and when to retreat – he'd assured her of this the previous morning, less than twenty-four hours before, when they'd been cuddled on the couch unwilling to let each other go. He had been worried about her. He'd assured her she did not need to worry about him.

"Cissy?" prodded Bellatrix, concerned. Narcissa shook her head as if to clear it.

"Bella, have you seen Draco? It's been so long since we arrived I haven't yet been able to find him."

"I haven't seen him, sorry." Bella studied her sister's face carefully. Narcissa willed herself to employ Occlumency. "Cissy? Are you alright? Don't you… don't you have anything to save about Snape?"

"What happened?" she asked, voice steady, yet still unable to move. Thank Merlin for Occlumency. Not only was it currently keeping her from revealing her emotions, it was temporarily keeping her from experiencing them. "How did he die?"

"The snake, Nagini. In the Shrieking Shack. On the Dark Lord's orders."

"Very well." Narcissa nodded as though she'd just been informed the restaurant was out of lobster thus she'd need to select another entree. "Thank you for informing me."

"Cissy? Narcissa?" Bellatrix was looking upon her with an expression of great concern. "You're so… calm. It's… creepy."

"I'm sorry he's dead," said Narcissa, her wooden voice without inflection. "Thank you for this information. But I need to find my son."

"Okay…" said Bellatrix slowly. "You can't right now, though. We're supposed to be gathering in the woods. To wait for Potter. Didn't you hear the announcement? Come with me."

"I'll be along. You go. Please. I… I want to be alone. For a moment. I'll be along, I promise."

"Alright then, Love." With another tug at her younger sister's hair, Bellatrix swiveled, causing her skirt to flare dramatically, and hurried away, though she glanced back over her shoulder at her sister several times. She knew Narcissa had only been with Snape out of loneliness, it wasn't as if they loved each other or something, but as they'd been friends for decades she'd expected some sort of reaction, not that creepy calm. Despite the Dark Lord's orders and the burning Dark Mark on her forearm, Bellatrix darted behind a tree, deciding to keep an eye on her sister rather than continuing to the clearing.

Once she thought she was out of Bella's sight, Narcissa lost control, let out a sob, and stumbled forward, catching herself against another tree, scraping her palm on the bark. She forced herself to breathe in and out slowly, deeply, unable to fully process what she'd just heard. She retched, losing what little she'd eaten the day before along the base of the tree, pressed her scraped palm to her lower belly, and willed herself not to let the tears fall.

She needed to find Draco. She'd come to find Draco. She couldn't save Severus, but she could save Draco.

Except…

What if Bellatrix was wrong?

What if he wasn't dead?

What if he was injured?

What if… what if she _could_ save him?

Feeling dizzy, Narcissa steeled herself, used her wand to clean the taste of bile from her mouth, straightened up, and hurried toward the Shrieking Shack, terrified by what she'd find but knowing she would be unable to live with herself if she didn't check.

She couldn't believe it had been only a couple of hours ago when they'd apparated to the outskirts of Hogsmeade and hurried to Hogwarts, where it appeared a battle was already beginning. Upon arrival Narcissa had hurried from the Shrieking Shack to the castle, terrified by what she'd face but propelled forward by a force bigger than herself. First she needed to find her son. Second, she needed to find her fiancé. (Was it fair to consider him her fiancé? After all, he'd asked her the marry him and she'd said yes. That made them engaged, right?)

Once they were reunited, she would need to somehow convince both Draco and Severus to give up the fight, to leave with her, to return to Malfoy Manor briefly to collect baby Nova, Squeakers the House Elf, and as much gold as they could carry, and then they could disappear to start a new life far from here, allowing her unborn baby to grow up in a world in which no one knew the name Lord Voldemort.

What Narcissa found at the castle was chaos and carnage, but she spotted neither of the men she was desperate to find. She continued seeking, dodging jets of light, curses, hexes, and jinxes, Order members, Death Eaters, students, and falling bodies. She passed over the limp, ravaged form of a girl who looked about her son's age. She'd clearly been attacked by something less than human. Greyback, Narcissa assumed. She stifled a shudder.

It was much quieter down in the dungeons, near the Slytherin common room. A pair of girls came running from the direction of its entrance. Narcissa grabbed the taller one by the wrist and pointed her wand at the smaller one, ensuring they wouldn't attempt to escape.

"Are you Slytherins?" she asked. The girls exchanged a glance. The shorter one was carrying a struggling fat gray cat. The taller one had a lumpy rucksack thrown over her shoulder. Both were short of breath.

"I am," said the taller one finally. "My sister's Ravenclaw. Why do you want to know?"

"I'm looking for my son," she said. "Draco Malfoy. He's a Slytherin. Do you know him? Have you seen him?"

"Astoria knows him better than I do," said the taller one, indicating her little sister. "But we haven't seen him, not since McGonagall said anyone who wanted to could retreat. We… we weren't going to run away. But…"

"But there are kids dying everywhere!" said the smaller one, Astoria, in a panicked tone. "You're Draco's mum?"

"Yes," said Narcissa, wondering whether this was Astoria Greengrass, the girl with whom her son was so smitten.

"If we see him, should we tell him to get out of here, same as we're doing?" asked Astoria. Her cheeks reddened. "Or no? You must think we're cowards…"

"I don't think you're cowards," said Narcissa, lowering her wand and releasing the taller girl's wrist. "I think you're children. Go, get out. You can apparate safely from Hogsmeade."

"Thank you," said the taller one. She adjusted the rucksack. "Come on, Astoria."

They rushed away.

Narcissa had continued searching, to no avail. "Draco?" she'd called over and over, her eyes sweeping the familiar Hogwarts halls. "Draco!"

It was another Slytherin student, Millicent Bulstrode, who informed her that many of their House had taken a secret passageway to Hogsmeade to escape. She hadn't known there was a secret passageway. That information is what led to Narcissa fleeing the castle, heading back into the village, learning no one had seen Draco there, and returning to the woods…

Meanwhile, starting from his flight from the castle, Severus Snape hid in the Forbidden Forest, contemplating his next move. He was leaning against a tree, still somewhat shaken by his battle with Minerva McGonagall, wishing he hadn't felt obligated to flee the now-breached castle, when an approaching figure spotted him.

"Damn it," whispered Severus. He folded one arm against the tree trunk and rested his forehead against his forearm. If only he could have told her the truth. But no, of course he couldn't. And even if he could, she would never believe him.

"You bastard."

A stinging hex hit Severus square in the back. He whirled around, wand at the ready, mentally chastising himself for being caught off-guard by an attacker.

It was Lucius. He looked livid.

"You've been fucking my wife?"

"I…"

Lucius waved his wand, sending a second stinging hex, which Severus deflected using Protego.

"She said she's been staying with you since she left the other night." (Stinging hex. Deflected.) "She says you lied about not having seen her." (Stinging hex. Deflected.) "She says you've been having an affair." (Stinging hex. Deflected.) "She says it's been going on for two bloody years." (Stinging hex. Deflected.) "Stop!" (Hex. Deflect.) "Blocking!" (Hex. Deflect.)"My!" (Hex. Deflect.) "Hexes!"

"I understand that you're angry," said Severus in a voice as calm as he'd have were they discussing something as unimportant as the weather. "But I'm not going to let you hex me."

"You deserve it!" shouted Lucius, not caring if anyone could hear them. "You've been _fucking my wife!_ "

"Yes, I have. And I'm sorry."

"You admit it? You're sorry?" Lucius lowered his wand hand slightly, hesitantly. He'd been expecting a denial, perhaps an excuse, or maybe even a story about having been seduced, but certainly not an admission with an apology.

"Yes. It's the truth," Severus replied slowly, carefully. "I have been sleeping with Narcissa for the last two years and I am sorry."

Lucius regarded him with suspicion. "You're sorry you slept with her?"

"No. I'm sorry to have caused you pain. I'm not sorry to have slept with her."

Lucius' brow furrowed. He again brought up his wand, ready to duel. He was irate, that much was evident, but he was also deeply hurt.

"Why? How could you? I love her."

"You've been cheating on her for twenty years, Lucius. Perhaps longer. As long as I've known you. She doesn't know, for what it's worth. I didn't tell her."

"Tell her what?" asked Lucius, still glaring, wand up. "You didn't tell her…?"

"She doesn't know how far back your indiscretions date. She thinks the Endora Selwyn affair was your first. I saw no reason to inform her otherwise. It would only hurt her. And while we're on it, she also doesn't know you've got a fetish for young girls. I kept that to myself."

"Don't say 'young girls,'" spat Lucius. "They're all of age; you make them sound like children."

"Hortensia was how old the first time? She was still at Hogwarts, I remember that. And you were… thirty?"

"She was _of age_ ," Lucius insisted, going burgundy with fury. "Not that it's any business of yours. My marriage and the trysts in which I've engaged since entering into it are none of your concern."

Severus cocked an eyebrow but refused to argue this. "Oh? I respectfully disagree. I believe it became my concern when Narcissa initially approached me."

"She approached you?"

"She did."

"Saying what? 'My husband's having an affair, please fuck me?'"

Severus shrugged one shoulder. "More or less."

"So you said yes? My wife went to you, my closest friend, and asked for… for that… and rather than tell her no and inform me of the issue, you just thought you'd take her to bed for the next two years?"

"Why wouldn't I?" asked Severus, unable to help himself. "She's beautiful. She's bright. She's good company. She's great in bed. You'd long been getting what you needed from other women, why shouldn't she seek to fulfill her needs with another man?"

"Because she's my wife, you filthy Mudblood bastard!" Lucius charged Severus, shoving him backward against a tree, and raised a fist to punch him, but Severus stunned him nonverbally.

"Fuck!" cursed Lucius, backing away, rubbing his bicep where the Stunner had hit. He kicked dirt at Severus. "Fight back like a man, you fucking coward."

Severus shook his head, willing himself to keep calm.

"Did Narcissa tell you she wants a divorce?"

Lucius scoffed, stood up straighter, and fixed his hair, trying to regain some semblance of pride despite being he was deeply wounded.

"A divorce? No. Why? So she can be with you? Don't be ridiculous, Snape. She told me she went to you two years ago because I had her feeling lonely and worthless but just as I have already informed her, whatever she's been having with you, it's over. You are not to see her again. Understand?"

"That is not your choice to make." Severus lowered his wand, hoping Lucius would do the same. "I _am_ sorry to have hurt you, but I want to be with Narcissa. And she wants to be with me. I intend to marry her."

"The fuck you will!" Lucius slashed at the air. This time Severus ducked, not fast enough with a defensive spell, and the curse – which seemed to have been a nonverbal Sectumsempra – hit the centuries-old tree behind him, splintering off some of the bark. "She _belongs_ to me, Severus. She is _mine_. You will not steal her. You cannot have her."

"I do not intend to steal her," Severus said coolly, still keeping his wand by his side but gripping it firmly, at the ready. "One steals possessions, not people, except in the case of the slave trade, and to that I assure you I will not be kidnapping or enslaving your wife. She intends to divorce you and once she has, we will marry. I love her. The feeling is mutual. That, my friend, is the long and the short of it."

Lucius' hands shook with barely controlled rage. He took a step closer to Severus, who did not move. "I will fight you for her, Snape."

"As I believe I have made clear, I will not fight back," said Severus calmly, wishing Narcissa had simply done as requested and kept their secret relationship to herself until they were ready to disclose it together. Now Lucius and Bellatrix knew, and Merlin-only-knows who else. Draco? The Dark Lord? This was, to say the least, not good.

"Come on, you coward!"

Severus' wand hand twitched. Coward. He hated that word. Coward. Minerva had tonight called him a coward. Potter had, one year ago, called him a coward. What did they know? He was a great many things, arguably most of them negative, but he was no bloody coward.

Lucius laughed bitterly. "Or isn't the pathetic slag worth fighting for?"

"Narcissa is unquestionably worth fighting for," Severus said slowly, controlled. "She's not, nor has she ever been, a slag, and the fact that you would disrespect her by calling her one speaks volumes. You wonder why your marriage has failed? Look no further than your own actions. And you know–"

"Fuck you, Snape. What do you know of my marriage?"

Ignoring this interruption, Severus started over. "And you know as well as anyone that I am _not_ a coward."

"Then raise your wand, Snape!" Lucius sent a nonverbal jinx in Severus' direction, which he, of course, deflected. "You say you want my wife? Prove it." Another jinx. Another deflection. "Fight me for her, damn it!"

Severus glared at Lucius, no longer willing to play this game.

"A duel is not necessary, Malfoy," he snapped. "The man with whom she spends her life is her choice, not our battle. And I believe she's made her choice. You have had twenty-five years during which to treat her as she deserves, Lucius, and you have chosen instead to shag her sister, her cousin, her niece, at least two of her friends, three or four other women she knows about, and far more that she doesn't. I believe you when you claim to love her, but she no longer loves you. Not anymore. Not as a wife should love a husband. Not in the way she and I love each other."

"You _love_ my wife?" Lucius, laughing at this absurdity, took another step forward. "No. No. You don't love my wife, Severus. You've only had her because she was sad and lonely and threw herself at you. You've never had a woman want you in that way before and it's obviously gone to your head. Narcissa certainly doesn't love you and you're delusional if you think otherwise. She only did this to punish me." His gaze shifted from his ex-friend's face to the trees behind him and back again, a sure sign he was about to lie (Lucius, like his wife, had several tells that Severus had been able to identify for years). He puffed up his chest and declared, "She told me so! She told me she doesn't love you, or even like you. She only approached you because she wanted to wound me in retaliation for my numerous affairs and now she is regretful. Regretful and ashamed. It only took a few hours home at Malfoy Manor for her to come to her senses, now you must come to yours!"

Severus' jaw twitched. This needled him and he was sure Lucius knew it, though he tried not to show any emotion. As much as these words played on his lingering insecurities, Narcissa couldn't have said that. She wouldn't. She wanted to marry him, he knew she did, and they were going to have a life together, and a child. Lucius, with his shifty-eyes tell and his false bravado, was lying.

He had to be.

"You don't mean a bloody thing to my wife, Severus," Lucius went on cruelly, stepping even closer, slipping his wand – presumably a borrowed wand – back into the protection of the snake's head walking stick. "She threw herself at my feet earlier tonight and begged my forgiveness, begged me to take her back and not to hate her. I told her I'd take her back if she swore on her life to never again be unfaithful, and then I took her to bed, after which she swore she'd never see or speak to you again. She described your little affair as, and I quote, 'the absolute worst mistake' of her life."

"Did she?" asked Severus, looking directly into his former friend's eyes, utilizing Legilimency. But before he could properly penetrate the man's mind, Lucius swung, and his fist connected with Severus' lower jaw. Instinct took over and he hit back, getting Lucius in the eye, knocking him on his arse. Lucius rose, head ducked like a furious bull, and charged him again. They grappled, uttering obscenities and trading barbs under their breaths. Both Lucius' walking stick and Severus' wand dropped to the forest floor in the scuffle, but despite their best efforts, neither managed to land a second decent punch before the voice of the Dark Lord interrupted, forcing them both to freeze.

"Now, now. We'll have none of that," He tsked, as if scolding two unruly children. Lucius retrieved his walking stick, wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, and glared at Severus, who stood motionlessly, stone-faced, staring back at him, his wand still by his feet.

"Lucius Malfoy, to the Shrieking Shack. I must speak with you," He hissed. "Severus Snape, do not wander far."

Severus, now employing Occlumency, nodded, and turned away from Lucius, who didn't dare curse him when his back was turned right in front of their master, to pick up his wand. Thanks in part to his ability as a Legilimens, Severus could feel the older man's seething rage penetrating his own mind and body, but he attempted to suppress his own. As the former friends followed the Dark Lord toward the Shrieking Shack, both trying not to worry about whatever awaited them in the Shack, they were each lost in their own thoughts.

Lucius was thinking about that afternoon two years ago, when Severus had warned him to treat Narcissa better or risk losing her, to which Lucius had laughed, insisting that no one else would want her because everyone knew she was his. He'd been warned, hadn't he? He'd been warned and he'd been a fool to ignore the warning. He'd lied to Severus about what she'd said not only to hurt him, but because he wanted it to be true. He wanted his wife to say it was a mistake to have cheated on him, a mistake to have left, to have asked for a divorce. But she hadn't. And, he suspected, she wouldn't. He hadn't heeded Severus' warning. He had lost her. He had lost her and, as much as he wanted to hate Snape, he had only himself to blame.

At the same time, Severus' mind was flashing back to the previous morning, when he and Narcissa were kissing in bed, just before the House Elf popped in. One of the last things she'd whispered in his ear was, "I cannot wait to be your wife, Severus Tobias Snape. I have never before been so in love as I am with you." And he'd looked into her eyes and seen the sincerity there, knowing even without Legilimency that she meant it, and therefore he knew in his head that his old friend was lying now. Narcissa didn't regret her affair with Severus. She didn't beg her husband's forgiveness and go to bed with him. She wouldn't. She loved Severus. Narcissa loved him and he loved her and together they would raise a child surrounded by all of the love its parents both lacked and longed for in their youth.

After an entirety and at the same time, too soon, the trio made it to the Shrieking Shack. Lucius and the Dark Lord went inside.

Severus tried to eavesdrop on their conversation but could hear only occasional words. Lucius was begging – something to do with his son – and receiving no consideration or pity from the Dark Lord. Then He was sending Lucius out to find Severus, an easy task, as he'd known not to leave the outskirts of the Shack.

Severus entered the Shrieking Shack. The snake, Nagini, in a magical cage hovering in the air caught his eye. Dumbledore had told him to pay attention to the snake, hadn't he? There would come a time when the Dark Lord wouldn't let her out of His sight… it seemed the time had come.

The Dark Lord wanted something from Severus.

The power of the Elder Wand, which He presumed Severus' controlled.

Severus tried to distract the Dark Lord.

He offered again and again to go find the boy.

But the Dark Lord wasn't interested in sending Severus Snape to find Harry Potter. He had something entirely different in mind.

He waved His wand. Nagini's magical cage opened… the snake advanced… The Dark Lord made his exit… the wound bled… Narcissa's face flashed across his mind… And then, there was the Potter boy… Harry Potter, beside him in the Shrieking Shack… the last person to whom he'd ever speak.

"Take it."

(The memories.)

"Look at me."

(Lily's eyes.)

And it was over.

By the time Narcissa reached the Shrieking Shack, Potter was long gone.

She threw open the door and immediately discovered Severus on the floor, on his back, in the very room they'd once made love – on his birthday, the night Narcissa asked him if it were possible to love two people at the same time.

Her heart constricted painfully in her chest.

After a second's hesitation, she flew to him, falling to her knees by his side. She placed her hands on his shoulders. He did not appear to be bleeding or in pain even though Bella had said it was Nagini that attacked him. Had he also been hit by the Killing Curse? He looked so… peaceful. Perhaps he was only unconscious. His eyes were closed. He could be sleeping.

"Severus," Narcissa whispered anxiously, shaking him. "Severus, darling, can you hear me?"

She looked him over more thoroughly, brushed back his hair, and discovered two identical dots on his neck, created by the fangs of that damned snake. The blood was smeared. Clearly he'd tried to staunch the wound with his handkerchief, which lay discarded beside him. She picked it up and slipped it inside her dress, tucked into the strap of her bra, not noticeable through her traveling cloak. The blood was already dry. Certainly not a good sign.

"Severus," she whispered desperately, shaking him again. "Love, I… there must be… an antidote. If you could just open your eyes, Love. If you could just open your eyes and tell me what it is, what will save you from the snake's venom, I'll retrieve it and I'll save you. Alright? Severus?"

She placed her palm on the center of his chest, where she'd rested her hand while in bed with him countless times. His chest was neither rising nor falling, and unlike that morning, she couldn't feel the rhythmic thumping of his heart. Still…

"Severus, please, you can't die." Her voice cracked on that last word. She was having trouble holding back the tears. "You can't. You're going to marry me, remember? Remember?" She bent down and kissed his neck just above the wound. "Darling, please. Please?" She laid her body over his, holding him, choking back a sob. "Sev-Severus. Please. You can't die. You're going to marry me. I'll be your wife. And I'll take your name and live with you and bear your children. Re… remember?" Her voice was so small and weak she could barely squeak out her next words.

"I love you, Severus Tobias Snape. I'm in love with you. Hopelessly. And you love me. Stupidly. And we're having a baby. Our baby. If you'll just… just open your eyes… You can give our baby any ridiculous name you want, I promise. Betelgeuse it is! Even if it's a girl! But please, please… You're strong and smart and you know when to fight and when to retreat, you told me I needn't worry about you, remember?" Fat, hot tears slipped from her eyes down her cheeks and dripped off her chin onto his face. She wiped them away and placed a gentle kiss on the end of his large, hooked nose, the way he'd done to hers so many times. "You can't be dead, my love. You can't." She gently pressed her lips to his, but as life is no Muggle fairy tale, this had no effect. "I love you."

"Cissy?"

Narcissa jolted, scrambled to her feet, and swiveled around, holding out her wand.

"Bella! What did you hear?"

"I heard everything," said Bellatrix, stunned. "You loved him? And you're… Are you pregnant?"

"Does it matter?" As difficult as it was, Narcissa made herself leave his side. She stood and walked briskly toward her sister. "What does it matter how I felt?" Her voice had suddenly gone cold, as cold as that of the Dark Lord Himself. "What does it matter if I'm pregnant? What does anything matter? You said it, didn't you, Bella? My lover is dead."

"I didn't know… I didn't know you loved him."

"Well, now you know!" snapped Narcissa, as she found herself blaming her sister as much as she did the Dark Lord, even though she had no rational reason for doing so. "Not that it matters. Not that you care. You always hated him."

Bellatrix toyed with the material of her skirt, feeling awkward.

Finally, she said quietly, "I care because you care."

"Bite me." Narcissa threw one of her sister's favorite phrases back at her.

"Cissy," said Bella, in a tone she hoped sounded compassionate but came out more like a whine. "For what it's worth, he died a hero."

Caught between anger and despair, Narcissa wiped the tears from her eyes, utilizing Occlumency to keep her sister out of her head, and forced her face to take on the same wooden expressionless look she'd worn in the woods. "How do you mean?"

"The Dark Lord needed him to die. He needed to win the allegiance of his wand so He can defeat Potter. See, the wand from the Tale of the Three brothers, it was real, Cissy! Beetle the Bard wasn't all pretend – the Three Brothers existed and so did their stone, cloak, and Death Stick. Snape had the wand, but the Dark Lord needed it, thus Snape gave his life for our cause. I know it seemed like we hated each other – and I suppose we did, I won't lie – but I… I rather _liked_ hating him. All these years, I thought – I _swore_ – he wasn't loyal, but I suppose I didn't really mean it, I was just jealous because the Dark Lord valued him so highly, and in any case, I was wrong. I was _wrong_. He was loyal through the end. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for you, my darling sister. After the Dark Lord has defeated Potter, I'll make sure He honors Snape for his sacrifice. Every little pureblood witch and wizard in our world will grow up honoring his name, including mine. Including yours. That's some solace, right?"

"Sure," said Narcissa offhandedly.

"Come with me." Bellatrix took Narcissa by the hand, like a child. "We need to head to the clearing in the center of the forest to await Potter. It's almost over, Cissy. We've weakened them considerably. Our niece is dead, her werewolf husband is dead, the Order has been decimated; the students are giving up. Surely Potter will turn himself in to save his friends. Victory is on the horizon."

With one last glance back at her slain would-be husband, father of her unborn child, Narcissa allowed herself to be led by her sister all the way to the clearing. When they arrived she shook her head several times, confused by her surroundings. She couldn't remember the walk. It was as if she had only seconds ago been on her knees by Severus' side. She was glad she'd already emptied her stomach of its contents because the urge to do so was strong, but so long as she only needed to dry-heave, she could suppress it.

Damn.

What would she tell their child someday?

"Your father died a hero, killed by a Master to whom he was not truly loyal, to help strengthen the side he wished to see fall."

 _Some solace._

Lucius arrived shortly thereafter and moved to stand beside his wife. He was the last of the remaining Death Eaters to join the group. She ignored him until he attempted to take her arm.

"I thought you needed space," she said quietly, detaching herself from his hold. Bella was no longer paying her any mind. She was hovering about by the Dark Lord, gazing at Him lovingly, growing increasingly nervous and excited over the anticipated entrance and subsequent murder of Potter. Lucius sighed and put his hands in his pockets.

"Severus is dead," he said, surprisingly in a more compassionate tone than her sister had used when delivering the same news. He wouldn't tell her, not now, perhaps not ever, but a tiny part of him was already feeling guilty for the lies he'd told his friend. Make no mistake, he was still furious, and he'd wished they could have properly dueled, or, even better, beaten the tar out of each other as they'd been gearing up to do – if nothing else, a fight would've helped him work out this pent-up aggression – but seeing his friend dead on the floor of the Shack had profoundly affected him, and he didn't feel right about how it had ended between them.

He added in a murmur, "I've just seen his body."

"I am aware of his death," she replied. "You don't need to provide details."

If Lucius noticed how hollow and disconnected her voice sounded, he chose not to comment on it. He stood awkwardly beside her, not touching her, not looking at her. Simply… there.

After some time, he said, "I went into the castle but I couldn't find Draco."

Narcissa nodded, biting her lip, not looking at him.

"We'll find him, Narcissa."

"We'll find him," she echoed.

It was all that mattered now.

As the hour passed, Bella's excitement ebbed while her nervousness compounded.

"What if the boy doesn't show, my Lord?"

"Patience, Bella," said the Dark Lord. "Do not pout. I know how Potter works. He'll have seen the devastation caused by ignoring my last demand, and he will show."

Finally, show he did.

"Harry Potter," greeted the Dark Lord, a slight smile on His nearly nonexistent lips. "The Boy Who Lived, come to die."

Narcissa braced herself for what was to come, but there was no great battle. The boy didn't even attempt to fight back. He merely opened his arms and in a flash of green light…

"My Lord!" Bellatrix cried out. She dropped to the muddy ground beside her Master, who collapsed as if the Killing Curse had once again backfired. She felt His chest for a heartbeat. Time passed. He did not open his eyes, did not move.

One of the Death Eaters moved forward, toward the body of the boy, but Bellatrix stopped him. "The Dark Lord will be the one to decide what to do with him!"

"Is the Dark Lord dead?" whispered Hortensia Higgins.

"Certainly not!" insisted Bellatrix, cradling His head in her hands. She looked down upon Him with all of the care and concern Narcissa had worn on her face upon seeing Severus. Narcissa's stomach churned at the sight of it. For the first time she truly accepted that she and her sister were on opposite sides of this war and, no matter what happened, the damage that would cause their relationship was absolutely irrevocable.

No matter who won, they'd already lost.

On His back, on the ground, Dark Lord stirred.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix spoke as if to a lover. "My Lord…" She shook Him the way Narcissa had Severus, but unlike Snape, the Dark Lord responded.

"That will do!" He sniped, annoyed with her for attempting to coddle Him, and presumably embarrassed over this perceived weakness. With a sigh of relief, Bella hopped to her feet and reached down to help Him do the same, which He clearly found insulting, as He shoved her to the ground with a cold directive to get away from Him.

"I do not require assistance, woman."

Bella's eyebrows furrowed as her expression momentarily revealed her hurt and humiliation over this treatment, but she hurried back to her feet and dusted herself off as if nothing had happened, though the dirt now on her dress said otherwise. Narcissa took a long look at the pair of them, breathing slowly, as this interaction had revealed all the more evidence to support Narcissa's belief that her sister's relationship with the Dark Lord was much like that of an abused wife and her cruel husband.

Fuck, she hated Him.

She hated Him and she wanted Him dead.

She wished her sister had never met Him. She wished the Killing Curse that rebounded at Godric's Hollow in 1981 had managed to kill Him. She wished she could be the one to do it…

"You!" The Dark Lord pointed a bony finger at Narcissa, who let out a small involuntary shriek. Had He known what she was thinking, that she was picturing herself murdering him? She quickly closed off her mind, willing herself to remain steady.

"Examine the boy," demanded the Dark Lord. "Tell me whether he is dead."

Without audibly responding, but with the slightest breath of relief, Narcissa shuffled forward toward the limp form of the boy. She bent down by his side, looking him over for signs of life.

She gently touched her fingertips to his face. She opened one of his eyes – it was green, toad green, same as his mother's, which caused a painful pang in her chest – and let it close again. She slid one hand under his shirt, against his chest, feeling… feeling his heart, beating strongly. She could feel his heartbeat, as she'd been unable to feel Severus'. The boy's chest moved beneath her hand, ever so slightly, up and down.

He was breathing.

He'd survived.

For the second time in under seventeen years, he'd been hit with the Killing Curse by arguably the darkest, most powerful wizard of all time… and he'd survived.

He truly was The Chosen One.

Narcissa was breathing fast, trying to control her emotions, to keep her mind clear. She bent so that her lips were an inch from his ear and positioned her long nails against his skin over his ribs.

"Is he alive?" she whispered, hoping against hope that she hadn't lost her lover and her son in the same short span. "Draco, is he alive? Is he in the castle?"

"Yes," whispered Potter. "He is."

Without meaning to, she dug her nails ever-so-slightly into his chest, as she bit her lip to keep from crying out with relief. He was alive. He was in the castle. She slipped her hand out from under Harry's shirt, away from the warmth of his skin. She sat up and took a deep breath. Picturing an ocean and a wall and burying away all emotions, she rose and turned to face her sister and the Dark Lord.

"He is dead."

The Deaths Eaters rejoiced. The Carrows clapped each other on the back. Hortensia Higgins hugged her husband, Rocco Pyrites. Macnair grunted, the closest to a cheer he could manage, while Travers, the distant cousin of Narcissa's stepfather, actually applauded. Yaxley, the blond, gaunt-faced forty-something Head of Magical Law Enforcement, placed a quick kiss on the lips of young Juliet Rosier – apparently she'd found someone new after all – as a relieved Euphemia Rowle threw her arms around her husband Thorfinn's neck. The Lestrange brothers were whooping and shaking hands with everyone within reach, while Rookwood, Dolohov and Selwyn nodded to each other and laughed, glad the deed was finally done. Even elderly Hazel Whitecrest was present and beaming proudly, as if she'd contributed personally to the boy's death, like it hadn't been two decades since the Dark Lord last needed her money.

Only the Malfoys seemed to be struggling to celebrate.

Thankfully no one seemed to notice.

None were more gleeful, of course, than the Dark Lord's most loyal and faithful follower, Bellatrix Black. She grinned at Narcissa over the Dark Lord's shoulder – uncharacteristically, in His delight, He'd permitted her a brief but non-romantic public embrace – and Narcissa tried to smile back but in truth, she had only one thing on her mind: entering the castle to find her son. Now that He believed they had won, surely the Dark Lord would lead them to Hogwarts, to present Potter's body and take over the castle. And while they were doing so, she'd have time. Time to find Draco and get away. Time to return to the Manor, kidnap her sister's baby, and disappear.

"Harry Potter is dead by my hand!" announced the Dark Lord, releasing Bella with a pat to her upper thigh. She gazed up at Him lovingly. "No man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!"

Narcissa inwardly panicked as He cursed the boy, afraid He would discover she had lied, but by some miracle Potter managed to suffer through without reaction.

Hagrid, the sobbing half-giant, lifted the boy on the Dark Lord's orders and carried him to the school to show off his body to those still resisting. Narcissa followed numbly, thinking only of Draco in this moment, and of nothing and no one else.

The Dark Lord announced Harry Potter's death in His magically magnified voice. The Death Eaters positioned themselves in lines outside the school, like an army. Narcissa hovered by the edge, ignoring Lucius, pondering how she could break away to enter the castle. Bellatrix, on the other hand, skipped merrily beside her abusive lover, more content than Narcissa had ever seen her, save, perhaps, for when she was feeding her beloved baby Nova.

Narcissa spotted Professor Minerva McGonagall in the crowd. The woman screamed out in anguish upon the sight of the boy, which made Bellatrix laugh, which made Narcissa fantasize about slapping her idiot sister. How could any mother rejoice in the loss of another mother's child? Granted, Potter's mother was long dead, so it wasn't as if she'd feel the loss, but Narcissa was picturing his green eyes and remembering the way Severus always had spoken so lovingly of Lily, his only childhood friend, and she wanted to cry.

The Granger girl and Weasley boy and his sister screamed too.

Narcissa could not look upon them.

She was searching the crowd for blond hair… white-blond hair…

The Dark Lord called for SILENCE.

He began a speech full of alternative facts, telling the crowd how Potter tried to run away, to save himself. Narcissa barely listened. The Dark Lord asked who would be brave enough to join them, to do the smart thing. A boy stepped forward hesitantly.

"Draco," breathed Narcissa, as her heart stopped.

"Draco Malfoy," said the Dark Lord with a smile. "Yes, yes. Come, Draco."

But Draco did not move.

"Draco!" called Lucius, holding out a hand toward their son.

Still, Draco did not move. Lucius tried again, sounding more desperate this time.

"Draco?"

Narcissa moved forward, beside her husband, and reached out a hand toward her son. Her eyes looked pleadingly to his, silently begging him to join them, but, despite having zero proficiency in Legilimency, somehow innately knowing he did not wish to do so.

"Draco?" she said softly, and it was the pain in her voice that compelled him forward, toward his parents.

The Dark Lord smiled and embraced him, assuring the crowd that all who defected would be accepted.

Once Draco was within her grasp, Narcissa hugged him and guided him toward the back of the crowd, fully intending to disapparate as soon as possible.

A second boy stepped forward. Narcissa glanced back when her sister identified him as Neville Longbottom, whose Auror parents had been tortured into insanity by Bella herself.

But Neville was not stepping forward to join them. He was stepping forward to fight.

"We're leaving," Narcissa whispered to Draco. She glanced at Lucius, who had followed them. "I don't care what you do. Stay, go, fight, retreat, it doesn't matter. But I'm leaving and I'm taking my son."

"Mum," said Draco, his voice small. He was staring over her shoulder at the Dark Lord, who was forcing the Sorting Hat onto Neville's head… the hat caught on fire… people were screaming… a giant was charging… the snake was beheaded… and Harry was gone.

"We're leaving," insisted Narcissa. She took Draco by the hand, and with one last look at Lucius, they disapparated.

Once back at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa ordered the House Elf to bring Nova to her, with a readied bottle. She and Draco sat in the parlor, not speaking, as she fed the baby. She'd given up the ridiculous notion of taking off with the infant. Without Severus, it didn't seem necessary, and besides, Bellatrix wouldn't simply let her daughter go. They'd spend their lives hunted. It was a sacrifice Narcissa had been willing to make when she thought she'd have her love by her side, but now? What was the point now?

Lucius had apparated home immediately after his wife and son, but, sensing Narcissa was still in need of space, he sat alone in the kitchen for some time before seeking her out.

"Tea?" he asked, placing a cup on the table beside her without awaiting an answer. He handed one to Draco as well, who nodded a thank you. They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, so Lucius settled into a chair across from them.

And they waited. And waited.

The sun rose. The baby slept. No news.

"Either your sister and the Dark Lord will return," said Lucius, on his fourth cup of tea. "Or Ministry Aurors will arrive to arrest us."

"Crabbe is dead," said Draco. It was the first time he'd spoken since he'd called Narcissa "Mum" outside the castle before the battle commenced. "He was one of my best friends."

"I'm sorry, son," said Lucius.

Narcissa did not speak. She couldn't think of anything to say.

Finally, unable to stand not knowing what was happening, Lucius sent Squeakers to Hogwarts and ordered her to report back with any news.

She apparated into the parlor with a POP.

"Mistress Bellatrix is dead! And the boy, Harry Potter, he is alive! The battle continues!"

"Alive?" cried Lucius, dumbfounded, with a look toward Narcissa, who stared straight ahead. "How could that be?"

"He's the bloody chosen one," said Draco, but despite his word choice he'd uttered this without the bitterness he'd usually exhibit when talking about Potter. Overwhelmed, Draco buried his head in his hands.

"What of the Dark Lord?" asked Lucius, his face ashen. "Bellatrix is dead, Potter is alive, and the Dark Lord…?"

Narcissa, cradling the baby, picturing the dead body of her Severus on the floor of the Shack, could not react.

"He will battle the boy," said Squeakers, as if it should be obvious.

"Go back," said Lucius. "Do not return until either the Dark Lord or Potter is dead."

"But… but…" Squeakers' eyes were huge and frightened. She looked to Narcissa, as if hoping for reprieve, but Narcissa was too numb, too broken, to speak up for her.

"Go!" ordered Lucius.

With one final look at Narcissa, Squeakers disapparated.

When she returned again, she was breathless and shaking.

"The Dark Lord is no more!" she shouted, unsure of whether it would get her punished to express glee over this, but almost too swept up to care. "The Dark Lord is dead!"

"Well, what happened?" demanded Lucius.

Squeakers told them all she'd seen, all she'd heard, all that had transpired. Both Lucius and Draco bristled when she mentioned the former potions master, whereas the sound of his name caused Narcissa's eyes to well up with tears.

"Potter said Snape did not kill Dumbledore! Potter said Snape was Dumbledore's man! Potter said Snape loved his mother, Lily Potter, that he loved her since school, loved her forever."

Narcissa shook her head, wanting to argue even though she knew this to be true.

"The Dark Lord said Snape _desired_ Lily Potter, that is all, but Potter said no, he _loved_ her, he _truly_ loved her."

"For fuck's sake," whispered Narcissa, who closed her eyes, tempted to order the elf to shut up already, she didn't care about the details, the Dark Lord was dead, that's all they needed to know.

"Then Potter said the Dark Lord never had power over the Elder Wand because someone else took that power from Dumbledore – you, Master Draco."

"What?" Narcissa eyes snapped open. "What are you talking about?"

She only knew of the Elder Wand from the story of the Three Brothers in the Tale of Beetle the Bard and, until that day, had never believed it to be real, but her sister had mentioned it when speaking with Snape, she'd threatened to tell the Dark Lord Snape had acquired the wand's loyalty, and then hadn't she'd said Nagini had killed Severus so her Master could take control of the wand? It was all a blur…

"Me?" asked Draco. "The Elder Wand? What are you talking about?"

"Draco Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore. Draco Malfoy had the allegiance of the Elder Wand! But Harry Potter took the wand. Harry Potter has that power now."

"Severus wouldn't have known that," whispered Narcissa. "He wouldn't have known that you'd lost the power of the Elder Wand, but he was there when you disarmed Dumbledore. He must have… he must have thought you… That you still had its allegiance…"

Bellatrix had said Severus needed to die so that the Dark Lord could control the power of the wand, a power that, as far as Severus knew, Draco actually had. But clearly her lover hadn't sold Draco out, hadn't told the Dark Lord the power wasn't his… in a sense, she realized, it was as if he'd continued to fulfill their Unbreakable Vow. He'd died believing Draco had its allegiance. He kept this a secret to his death. This secret saved her son.

"The Dark Lord sent the Killing Curse at Potter. Potter disarmed Him and it backfired! The Curse backfired. The Dark Lord is dead!"

"I want to go back," said Draco suddenly, leaping to his feet. "I'm going back to Hogwarts. I need to see for myself. I need to know that that monster is dead."

"You can't go alone," said Lucius, also standing. Narcissa, afraid they'd leave without her, terrified to let her son out of her sight, handed the baby and the empty bottle to Squeakers.

"We'll all go," she said softly. They held hands to side-along apparate. With the protective wards around Malfoy Manor broken now that their caster was dead, they were able to disapparate directly out of their home, to the castle. They found Hogwarts' Great Hall full of people… the bodies of those slain fighting for Potter's side were carefully laid out… Narcissa did not see that of her sister, Bellatrix, or other Death Eaters. She was not sure that she wanted to. But there, beside her husband, was the still form of Andromeda's only daughter, Nymphadora. Narcissa recognized her from the few moments she'd appeared without a disguise on New Year's Eve.

"I'm sorry," whispered Lucius as they looked down upon her and Narcissa knew he was not only sorry for her death, he was sorry for having slept with her.

"You can't change it now," she said. With Draco beside her, she walked away. They stayed a short while longer, feeling awkward and out of place, unsure of what was to come, before Lucius said they really ought to be going, that the baby would need them, and what if Rodolphus, who was said to have fled, not died, returned for her?

"He won't want Nova," said Narcissa, but she knew Lucius was right, they should return home. "I need Bella's body. I think we should bury it. I… I don't want them to have it."

"You go then. You go home to the baby. Draco and I will… We'll find her. We'll bring her back with us."

Narcissa nodded weakly. She needed to rest. She needed food.

She needed to decide what to do about the fatherless baby growing inside her.

She hugged Draco before apparating away. When she was again safely at home in Malfoy Manor, she grabbed an apple from the kitchen, took the baby from the house elf, and headed to her bedroom, stopping on the way for the bottle of wine on Bella's dresser.

It couldn't hurt to have just a little, right?

"I'm sorry, Nova," whispered Narcissa to the wailing baby. "Your mother isn't coming back. She's dead. Your mother is dead. My sister is dead. Bellatrix is dead." Saying it over and over again didn't make it feel any more real.

It had never occurred to her that her sister might die.

She thought she would go back to Azkaban, or go on the run, if Potter defeated the Dark Lord, but never once had Narcissa thought Bellatrix Druella Black Lestrange could be killed in battle, and by a witch like Molly Weasley, no less. It didn't feel possible. Bella had always seemed… invincible. "I'm sorry, Nova. I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sorry for mine. I'm sorry…"

She couldn't stop the baby from crying and frankly, she felt like crying too. She placed the infant on her bed, beside Severus' cloak.

Severus.

Narcissa removed her black coat with the silver waistband and put on the one Severus' had modified for her. It still smelled of him, of soap, and of his chambers at Hogwarts. She reached for the bottle of wine but drew her hand back. She'd promised him she wouldn't drink. Does a promise die if the person it's been made to has?

The baby flailed, kicking the pillow, which moved it just enough to reveal the corner of the enchanted notebook. Narcissa slipped it out from its hiding place. It was hot to the touch because he'd written in it four days ago – no, now it was five days ago – but he'd told her not to read the message. He'd assured her it wasn't how he felt anymore; he'd had a moment of doubt, one he regretted putting into words. She shouldn't read it because he'd told her not to.

On the other hand, this would be the last message from him she'd ever read. How could she simply ignore it?

Besides, what if he'd written again later, after she'd returned to Malfoy Manor? If she didn't open it, she would never know.

She rubbed the bottoms of baby Nova's feet, which the infant usually found calming, as she contemplated what to do. Finally curiosity won out and she opened the notebook.

She read his message, the one from five days ago.

She shouldn't have.

She shouldn't have.

She ripped out the last line of the last page, his signature, and shoved it in her sidetable drawer, hoping it wouldn't disappear if it wasn't in the book. She quickly reread the rest of the message as it faded from view.

She shouldn't have.

She shouldn't have.

Overcome by the feeling she was going to vomit, Narcissa rushed to the loo. She coughed up liquid – the tea, presumably – then dry-heaved, as the tears came again. How could she still have tears? How could she not have cried them all away by now?

But no, there were plenty of tears still to come, apparently.

She sobbed so hard she had to hold onto the sink to keep herself upright. Out of habit, she reached into her pocket for a handkerchief with which to wipe her eyes, but all she found was a vial of potion.

The abortion potion.

Which he'd insisted she'd taken with her so she wouldn't feel trapped.

Just in case.

"Accio wine," she called with a wave of her wand. The bottle flew into her open palm. She looked from the wine in one hand to the potion in the other. If she downed the latter, she could get pissed off the former. She could drink until she couldn't feel pain. Until she could forget. Until she blacked out.

She could, quite possibly, drink herself to death.

But first, she would have to take the potion.

She set the wine bottle down and uncorked the potion vial, ignoring the banshee-like screams of the baby in the next room. Nova seemed to sense something was wrong. It occurred to Narcissa that the infant was crying out for a mother who would never again come for her, just as Harry Potter had almost seventeen years ago in Godric's Hollow.

Narcissa brought the abortion potion up to her lips, picturing Severus as he was on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, two puncture wounds in his neck, pale, cold, without a heartbeat.

And then, just before the liquid touched her lips, she pictured him in a different way.

The morning before.

In bed.

She pictured him with his mouth hovering over her abdomen, introducing himself to their unborn baby in his deep, silky voice, the voice she adored, the voice that still made her shiver a bit every time he said her name. She pictured him as he promised their offspring a lifetime of being well cared for and well-loved, with cuddles… but not snuggles. Snuggling's worse. And despite her tears, she laughed. She lowered the vial. She looked to the wine. She thought about the notebook message. She thought about their last few days together. She thought about the last two years. She thought about the Agatha Christie play and learning the FoxTrot and the movie theatre, about dancing around his bedroom at Spinner's End a week after her birthday, about cooking dinner together, about taking a shower together, about the time her hair was set on fire, about all of the times they'd shared their most intimate thoughts via the enchanted notebook, about that night in the attic when Nova was born and all the nights they'd spent exchanging words of love, and about how much she'd missed him during those six months they'd tried to keep away from each other.

She thought about the first time they'd spent the night together… about the first time he'd asked her to marry him… about their first kiss… about their last.

With an anguished, frustrated, furious scream, she chucked the vial of abortion potion as hard as she could across the bathroom. It hit the wall of the shower and shattered. She then did the same with the bottle of wine, and watched, tears again flowing freely, as the two liquids mixed together and ran down the drain.

Gone.

She went to the bed, lifted baby Nova, and hugged her to her chest, then, for reasons she couldn't have explained if asked, she reached into her bedside table and pulled out the tattered gray stuffed form of her old Babbity Rabbity. She went into the nursery and sank to the floor in front of the crib cradling both the baby and the bunny, while dwelling on Severus and the night Lily died, how he'd described it to her, how he said he'd sat and held his love and former friend while baby Harry cried behind them. Now she'd done the same. She'd held him in the Shrieking Shack. She'd had to leave him there. And now she had to listen to a crying baby.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

Thanks to the Dark Lord, Harry Potter had grown up an orphan.

Neville Longbottom was essentially an orphan.

Andromeda's grandbaby, having lost both parents in the Battle, was now an orphan.

Nova, without her mother and with no known father, was now an orphan.

Merlin-only-knows how many other children had to grow up alone after their parents met the same fate. How many more would now.

And for what?

To preserve the purity of magical blood?

No. It wasn't that. It was never really about that.

It was all to further a desperate, pathetic, disturbed old man's quest for power and immortality.

Fuck that.

Fuck him.

"It's alright, Nova," whispered Narcissa, rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the inconsolable infant. "You're not alone. You've got me."

When Draco and Lucius returned, Bella's body in tow, they decided to place her in the basement dungeon for now and worry about burying her tomorrow. They then went in search of Narcissa. They found her asleep on the floor of the nursery, her back against the crib, with sleeping baby Nova in her arms. Draco lifted his infant cousin, kissed her forehead, and placed her gently in the crib. He set the stuffed bunny down beside her. Lucius then lifted his estranged wife, wishing it wouldn't be wrong to kiss her as Draco had the baby, and carried her gently to the bed in the room she'd claimed as her own. He removed the cloak and tucked her under the covers while Draco watched.

Afterward, Lucius and his son sat together in the parlor, lost in thought, battered and bruised, exhausted but unable to sleep, not speaking but needing to be near each other.

The sun continued to rise.

It was now noon on May 2nd, 1998, twelve hours after the beginning of the Battle at Hogwarts.

Severus Snape was dead.

Vincent Crabbe, Jr. was dead.

Bellatrix Lestrange was dead.

Lavender Brown. Terry Boot. Colin Creevey. Hestia Carrow. Millicent Bulstrode. Jak Harper. Blaise Zabini.

Aurora Sinistra. Bathsheda Babbling. Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank.

Nymphadora Tonks. Remus Lupin. Fred Weasley.

Hazel Whitecrest. Cecil Scabior. Rocco Pyrites. Hortensia Higgins. Pius Thicknesse. Nigel Travers. Thorfinn Rowle.

Students. Teachers. Order members. Death Eaters.

Wizards. Witches. Purebloods. Muggle-borns.

Harry Potter had won.

The Dark Lord had been defeated.

It was over.

* * *

 **A/N:** Much like with the Augury Origin trilogy, I fused elements from the book and movie for the Battle at Hogwarts, though I skewed heavily toward book canon. I hadn't remembered (until rereading) that the Malfoys were present in the Great Hall after the fall of Voldemort, but I always liked how they just sort of disappeared during the film, so that's why I had them go and return later. Killing off Bella and Severus in the same chapter caused me great pain as they're my two favorites… hope you all don't hate me for doing it! Just two chapters left, plus the epilogue and the contents of the letter from Severus – who isn't gone for good. (He's not secretly alive, though I love when fics do that, but we'll see him in other ways.) Thanks for sticking with this story! And thanks, as always, for faves, follows, reviews, and PMs!

 **Review Responses:**

 **TheQueenHarleyQ-** Thanks for reading both this and the Augury trilogy! I am glad I was able to convert you to SnapeXNarcissa! If you do end up creating fanart for this story please please please share with me! I don't think anyone's ever made art inspired by one of my fics before so I'd be thrilled. No worries if you don't, though. Just glad to have a new reader!

 **Popular Cats-** Aww, thank you! I hope this chapter was sufficiently sad! Lol

 **Guest-** I couldn't help it. He's a dirty old man, eh? But aren't they all? (kidding!) I'm sorry I killed Severus, though. I hated to do it! Lol about you fanning yourself over the previous chapter, too. I DID get a bit steamier in that one – even I was blushing! But that's probably beause I wrote it in a Starbucks with people all around me… hahaha.

 **Batman is Kawaii-** I know it was a bit anti-climactic to have Narcissa tell Lucius and for him to be more sad than angry, but I wanted to save most of the rage for his altercation with Severus. Hope that scene made up for the other one a bit! I am sorry to have disappointed you though.

 **Everything Hurts-** Thanks! Linking it to the other one was the hardest part. I should've written this one first! Lol. Ah well. Glad it worked out okay!

 **.Oncer12-** Thanks! Sorry to have made you cry, though!

 **Annika-** Thank you! Did this one make the tears flow? Not that I want to make people cry, but… I kinda like knowing it it made people cry. Lol! :)

 **Nephthys-** Thanks! Always thrilled to have a new reader! That Spinner's End scene was one of my favorites in the entire series and it's what originally spawned both this fic and my Bellatrix trilogy. I love how JK would give just enough info to make us want more… I hope you liked it when Lucius confronted Severus. They didn't have a lot of time for a fight, but I couldn't let it end without them facing off.

 **Elphaba8387-** Aww thanks! I had fun with that.

 **KleaKuqi-** Thank you! Sorry for the slow updates! I'm in the editing trenches with my middle grade novel and since only one of these writing projects pays real life money I had to put this one on the back burner for a few days (lol) but I hope you liked the update!

 **Harry Hobbit-** I'm sorry! Sending e-hugs! I hated killing them but don't blame me, blame JKR! :) I'm glad you enjoyed the flashback to the Death Eaters meeting many years ago. I look forward to more scenes like that in the three sisters tale I'll be writing next, but it's slow-to-come because there's still so much to fit in this one!

 **EmoEmpire-** Thanks and sorry! Like I said to Harry Hobbit, blame JRK! Lol

 **Pink Cashmere-** Yeah, he gets around a little more in this fic than one might imagine… hahaha. Lucius' misogyny is so inherent that even he doesn't realize/recognize his hypocrisy regarding his affairs versus Narcissa's and his sexual conquests versus Bella's (Tbh, I based him on a certain ex of mine…) which Severus sort of points out here. I think of Bellatrix as pretty badass. There are a lot of women the Dark Lord could have, but he wants her for a reason. At least that's how I've always seen it!

 **Lala1224-** I hope you weren't disappointed by the fact that they didn't end up telling him together as planned. I'd love to know what you thought! Thanks!

 **OutlawQueenFaith-** Ohmygosh, thanks! It's definitely not perfect (every time I reread I want to scream at all the errors I didn't see before) but I'm working on it! Thx!

 **Avery-** Thanks for the good fortune prayers re: my novels! I'm in the editing trenches on book one now, which is craaazy, but it's going well! I'm glad you laughed at the wax part/marriage line. I had fun with that silly scene.

 **Karli1252-** Thanks so much! I hope you weren't let down by the ways Bellatrix and Lucius ended up finding out and their reactions. She still has to have a convo with Draco about it, but it's one I keep rewriting because I can't get the right tone. Hope I end up doing it justice!

 **Trickster32-** Albus frustrated me throughout most of the series, especially when it came to Severus and Harry and how he pulled their strings while expecting them to die (I really think he expected Snape to end up dead, but not with a chance to return like Harry could. Sob!). I also can't figure out why Occlumency wasn't taught to the Order, to Aurors, to everyone at Hogwarts… seems like an important bit of magic getting passed over so they can learn about less useful stuff like Bowtruckles and reading tea leaves!

 **Pureblood Vampira-** Thanks for reading! I see that you've written Snape/Narcissa too, which I'm super excited to read after this fic is done (I don't like to read other fics with the same pairing while I'm writing it because it can get distracting). Glad you like the title! :)

 **Thanks again, all!  
-AL **


	49. Late August, 1998

**A/N:** A small chunk of this is basically the epilogue of DYING FOR THE DARK LORD (except this version is more detailed and from Cissy's POV) because it was the second scene I wrote for this fic and I honestly didn't think I was going to end up using it, so I'm sorry to those who read that already and are kind of seeing it again. Only one (lllonnnggg) chapter left… plus an epilogue… and the final note from Severus to Narcissa… Thanks for sticking with this story! I appreciate all of your reviews, even the ones in which you expressed hate for me for killing off Severus. Hahaha – I'm just glad to know people are still reading! Thanks! **-AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-nine – Late August, 1998**

On August 26th, 1998, Narcissa Malfoy, nearly six months pregnant, testified to the Wizengamot on behalf of her husband, who had been arrested and imprisoned for having committed war crimes against multiple wizards, witches, and Muggles, per the orders of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

She'd done the same for Draco only two weeks prior, but that was in a much smaller courtroom, in front of only twelve members of the Wizengamot and no press, as he was a minor, barely sixteen, when he'd been assigned the task of murdering Albus Dumbledore, a job he hadn't actually carried out, and had neither committed nor attempted to commit a crime since (to their knowledge).

The partial Wizengamot had agreed with Narcissa when she'd said the boy had been given no choice but to _try_ even though he did not _want_ to kill the beloved Headmaster. After all, what is a child to do when he's been essentially marked for death by You-Know-Who?

Draco had testified in his own defense, of course, and during this time he told the full truth of what happened in the Astronomy Tower, how he hadn't wanted to do it but was afraid for himself and his mother, and how he'd considered taking up the Headmaster's offer to have the Order hide them, a possibility that became impossible after Severus Snape sent Dumbledore to his previously-arranged death.

Draco was, thankfully, cleared of all charges and able to return home after only nine days in Ministry custody, none of which were spent in Azkaban, much to Narcissa's relief.

It was considerably harder to defend Lucius.

Not only because he was damn guilty of multiple counts of torture and murder, but because she was still having a difficult time even being in the same room as her husband, heartbroken as she was over Severus' death, hurt as they'd both been during their fight before the battle, and worried as she was about what would happen once he returned home (assuming he was able to do so).

Lucius had been arrested only a week after the final battle, sent first to the temporary holding center and then on to Azkaban, as were all who'd been flagged as the Dark Lord's most dangerous followers and Marked Death Eaters, and there he remained through his August trial three months later.

He had been permitted a visit from his wife one week prior to the start of his trial, which is when he implored her to speak on his behalf. Lucius thought a crying, pregnant wife would garner him sympathy, especially since she'd previously spoken for their son, whose defection prior to Potter's presumed defeat was attested to by the two young Ravenclaws Draco had saved from his distant cousin, Juliet Rosier.

Narcissa hated testifying, especially once she was in front of the entire Wizengamot. She hated the way they looked at her, all of them, critically, like they were trying to see _through_ her. Which, she supposed, in a sense, they were.

A witch named Winifred Addams handled the questioning. Narcissa recognized her as Winnie Chen, Bella's closest friend and roommate at Hogwarts. Winnie and Bella had fallen out long ago, when Bella was initially sentenced to life in Azkaban and Winnie, then relatively new to Magical Law Enforcement, publicly denounced her former friend, falsely claiming they'd barely known each other. If the woman remembered Narcissa as the shy, awkward blonde who'd so frequently followed them around back in those days, she did not let on.

"Mrs. Malfoy, has your husband, to you knowledge, ever committed murder?"

Narcissa looked right into Winnie Addams' eyes, thankful Severus had taught her Occlumency so well, and lied under oath: "No, I do not have any reason to believe he has, nor do I believe he would. My husband has made a great many mistakes in his life, the greatest of which was pledging allegiance to the Dark Lord many years ago, but I am certain he is not a murderer."

For nearly two hours she sat there, answering question after question. Winifred led the inquiry, but other witches and wizards would pipe in periodically seeking clarification or asking the same questions in new ways.

The worse moment, as far as Narcissa was personally concerned, was when Winnie leaned in close to her, and, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and the lingering scent of wine on her breath, asked, "Mrs. Malfoy, have you been drinking?"

Narcissa did not want to admit she had, but she knew it would be easy enough to prove and if she convincingly lied about it they would wonder what else she'd manage to lie about. With a sigh, she nodded. Before Winifred could respond, Narcissa leapt into her defense.

"You must understand, it's been incredibly stressful! My husband has… he's given you a number of names… Not all of those he's called out are in custody… I can't sleep at night for worrying, what if they… What if they pay me a visit while he's in prison, and I can't protect myself? What with this one to worry over…" She patted her swollen belly, but the thought of using Severus' baby to save Lucius made her feel like she would be sick, so she quickly moved on. "Plus my son is so depressed, and I have another little one at home to care for, and… and…" Sharply, Lucius caught Narcissa's eye, causing her to stop, wishing she could swallow her last words.

"Another little one at home?" asked Winifred Addams. "I thought you had only the one child..." She consulted her paperwork. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, age eighteen, recently released from Ministry custody himself."

"I… We… We have a... another," Narcissa stammered, mentally scrambling to figure out a way out of this blunder. "Nova. She's under a year old. We… We've kept her a secret, to keep her safe… She's sickly, you see. Not well. Few have ever seen her. And with the Dark Lord, with him staying at Malfoy Manor all that time…" Her eyes darted toward Lucius, who was staring straight ahead, trying to remain expressionless. "We thought it best no one knew about her unless absolutely necessary. She was born at home in one of the guest bedrooms, delivered by…" Shit, she almost screwed up again, almost named Poppy Pomfrey. "With the help of Severus Snape," she finished. "You can check the book, the Hogwarts book. Her name should be down. Nova Black. We gave her my maiden name, to protect her."

"We'll check into that," said Winifred Addams. "In the interim, shouldn't you abstain from alcohol?"

"I've been! I've been abstaining! Only last night… and today… I… I had only a little… Just before… Because I had to come here… I was nervous, you see… I… I couldn't sleep last night… I couldn't…" Narcissa wanted to cry. Or scream. She'd been answering questions for hours. Her back ached, her ankles were swelling, she needed the loo, she was worried about Nova home alone with Squeakers, Draco had taken off the night before and not returned, and the baby inside her seemed to be settled between her ribs rather than in her uterus.

"I don't drink much!" she finally exclaimed, aware of how defensive and panicked and pathetic she sounded.

Winifred nodded, regarding her with an expression that was somehow both judgmental and sympathetic. Shortly thereafter they thanked her for her time and permitted her to go.

Apparently Hogwarts was able to confirm the existence of Nova Black, either that or the Wizengamot didn't care to follow up, because Lucius returned home without warning three days later. He told his wife and son that the trial had ended that morning and they'd subsequently released him citing 'time served.'

"They thanked me for the information I supplied. I suppose they felt they figured I was needed at home, and beside, they have bigger fish to fry," he explained to Narcissa, who was on the parlor carpet playing Peek-a-Boo with six-month-old Nova, and Draco, who was catching and releasing a slow-moving old snitch without moving from the couch. "Fenrir Greyback's trial begins today. He killed at least four students during the Battle at Hogwarts, bit two others, and actually chewed up some girl in Draco's year. Left her damn near unrecognizable. There's a great deal of publicity surrounding his case."

"She had a name, Father. She wasn't merely 'some girl,'" admonished Draco, sounding far older than eighteen. "She was Lavender Brown. Gryffindor."

"Yes, her." Lucius got down on all fours on the floor, facing the baby. She was waving two brightly colored stacking cups, one in each hand, and drooling happily. "You've grown, Nova. You could barely lift your head when I last saw you. What a big girl you are now!"

She let out a gurgly giggle before sticking the lip of one cup into her mouth. She lost her balance and fell backward, but Narcissa caught her.

"Everything goes in her mouth. She's trying to crawl but can't get her belly off the floor. I don't think she remembers her mother at all. She doesn't cry much anymore, but she's always sick – croup, oral thrush, colds, ear infections…"

As if on cue, Nova sneezed, sending yellowy goo flying from her nose.

"You were right, Father," said Draco, sneering down at the baby as Narcissa wiped her tiny nose. "Babies are the best birth control."

"Not for all of us, apparently," said Lucius. Narcissa shot him a sharp look in response.

"Civil words in front of the little one," said Draco, something his father used to say to his grandmother. Claudia Malfoy had loved criticizing Narcissa, but Lucius did not think it appropriate for his mother to disparage his wife in front of young Draco.

"I'm not surprised she's forgotten your sister," said Lucius, dropping this for now. He took the cups away from the baby and set her on her tummy to see if she would crawl. "As far as she knows, you're her mother."

"But I'm not."

"The Wizengamot thinks you are."

"They do?" asked Draco. "Why?"

"We need to talk," said Lucius, side-eyeing Draco on the couch with the snitch. "When we're alone. Now that I've returned, now that it's over, we need to discuss–"

"What?" interjected Narcissa, bitterness creeping into her voice. "My future here at Malfoy Manor?"

"Not now." He lightly pinched the back of the baby's chunky thigh. Nova responded with another gurgly giggle… and drool. So much drool. Draco waved his wand, Vanishing it from the floor.

"If you need privacy so you can have a massive row, just let me know and I'll lock myself in my room like I did all last summer. I'll even take her with me." Draco pocketed his wand and the snitch, picked up his baby cousin, and with a disdainful look at his parents, exited the parlor, letting the door slam behind him.

"I don't mind raising one child that isn't mine," said Lucius, standing and dusting off his robe. "But I'll not do it with two."

"So you're asking whether this baby is yours. What if it isn't? You're going to toss me out into the street?"

"Why should I allow you to live under my roof knowing you cheated on me with my friend, knowing that you're carrying a baby that isn't mine, providing for you _and_ the bastard child _and_ your sister's daughter? My charity only extends so far. Malfoy Manor is not a home for tragic orphans and single mothers."

"You had no problem letting the Wizengamot believe that this is your doing," she said, placing a hand protectively across her protruding midsection. "Nor did you set them straight on Nova."

"I said nothing of Nova for her own good. No one needs to know that she's the daughter of the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange. That could only bring the girl undue hardship. And I didn't reveal the question of this one's paternity because I don't want the world to think you're a slag! You did me a favor by testifying; I did you a favor by protecting your reputation."

Narcissa laughed scornfully. "Yes, I'm sure it was _my_ reputation that concerned you, and not your own as a murderous, disgraced, cuckolded wizard facing a lifetime in Azkaban." She wanted to rise to her feet and storm out, but since getting up from the floor was proving a challenge as of late, she remained where she was, her back against the couch, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her struggle. She seemed on track to gain just as much with this one has she had with Draco eighteen years ago.

"I am genuinely grateful to you for your testimony, and you can stay here for now, but yes, soon we need to discuss – as you put it – your future at Malfoy Manor." He turned on his heel and walked briskly to the parlor door, turning back momentarily before leaving her. "We'll need to consider Nova's future as well. Rodolphus' trial starts next week. Despite what we've told the Wizengamot, I say we let _him_ decide what to do with her."

The door closed. She was alone.

That night, as she did most nights, Narcissa picked an evening she'd spent with Severus and replayed it over in her head, eyes closed, mentally put herself back there, trying to forget he was gone. Tonight she chose the end of March, one week after her birthday, when she met Severus at Spinner's End to discuss her horrible fight with Lucius and to practice Occlumency. He'd taken her upstairs after a late lunch because she'd seduced him into doing so and they'd had sex, which was wonderful, but it was the after period she was reliving in her imagination now.

 _"_ _Do you still want more with me?" she asked, rolling over in bed to face him. He pulled her on top of him and rested his hands on her lower back. She burrowed her face against his neck. "Last week you wanted to date me…"_

 _"_ _I wanted a relationship with you…"_

 _"_ _And you said you wanted us to be faithful to each other…"_

 _"_ _I do want that." He slipped his hands down to her thighs and re-positioned her legs so that she was straddling him. She lifted her head, propping herself up with her hands on either sides of his shoulders, as he slipped his hands up under her arms to the backs of her shoulders. "Narcissa, I want to be with you and you alone, and I want to know you're only with me. I'll not share you."_

 _"_ _I'm only with you," she whispered. "I'm not even sharing a room with him anymore. I should've moved out of the master bedroom long ago." She placed a butterfly kiss on one corner of his mouth. "I_ am _faithful to you, Severus Snape." Gently, almost hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his. He responded without hesitation, bringing his hand to the back of her neck, under her hair. They snogged for a bit exchanging words of affection that, as had become their custom, stopped just short of "I love you."_

 _Then they'd lain in bed together and talked for hours, about everything. About the war. About the Ministry. About Hogwarts. About their own days at Hogwarts._

 _The Yule Ball had been an annual tradition back until the mid-seventies, when the regular murders that dotted Voldemort's first Rise to Power made such merriment feel grossly inappropriate. It was held on the last Friday night before students who were returning home for the holiday did so._

 _"_ _It was only for fourth years on up, so I attended four times, always with Lucius."_

 _"They let him attend even after he'd left school?"_

 _"Yes. There were no rules against inviting former students. What about you? Did you ever attend?"_

 _"O_ _nce, my fourth year, which was the last year it was held until the Triwizard Tournament."_

 _"_ _You went with Lily?"_

 _"_ _Yes. But only as friends."_

 _"_ _Why only as friends? Why didn't you tell her you liked her?"_

 _"_ _I tried. I asked her to the dance. She said, 'What a wonderful idea, Severus. Going with a friend takes all the pressure off so we'll be able to enjoy ourselves.' And I told her that's precisely why I'd suggested it because I was too embarrassed to admit I'd been trying to ask her out on a date."_

 _"_ _Oh, you poor, dear boy."_

 _"_ _Poor pathetic boy, more like."_

 _"_ _Yes, well, that goes without saying," teased Narcissa. In response, he pinched her arse. She giggled._

 _They had talked about the future, too._

 _"_ _You'll get divorced as soon as the war's over…" Severus began._

 _"_ _I'll get divorced this summer."_

 _"_ _Why this summer?"_

 _"_ _Draco will be out of school. I feel like I should wait for him to finish school. Then I'll file for divorce…"_

 _"_ _But what if the war's still going?"_

 _"_ _What if the war lasts another decade?"_

 _This was not a new topic of conversation. They'd had it before, both in person and via messages in the enchanted notebook. It always ended in a stalemate, with him insisting she not leave Lucius until the end of the war meant it was safe enough and with her insisting she couldn't possibly wait that long, then with him agreeing he didn't want to wait either and her conceding that safer was probably smarter._

 _Around midnight, she yawned, which made him yawn, which told them both it was time to get a few hours sleep before she had to sneak back to Malfoy Manor and he needed to covertly return to Hogwarts._

 _He rose, pulled on undershorts, and headed to the loo. While he was out of the room, she wrapped herself in the white sheet, tucking it like a towel so it would stay up, and checked out the odd-looking contraption atop his dresser. It was square with an engraved wooden top that reminded her of a music box. She opened it. Inside was what looked like a dinner plate, but with a silver stud sticking up through the center. She took the plate off. It was thin, like a wafer, but made of some odd material – hard plastic, perhaps? There were rings barely visible, concentric circles of black on black. What could it be?_

 _"_ _It's a record," said Severus, answering the question she hadn't asked out loud as he reentered the room. "An album. There's music on it. You put it on the player – that's the box – and when you put the needle down, it plays through these speakers." He tapped the tall brown rectangles under the box. Each had a black mesh face. "See this wand?" He grabbed hold of the black arm to the left of the inside of the box and snapped it back with a click. The disc began whirring around. He took the album from her hand and placed it so the silver bit was through the center hole again. He lowered the arm, connecting the needle to one of the black threads running across the surface. In a couple seconds, sound emitted from the boxes – the speakers – below._

 _"_ _Muggle music," he explained. He took her in his arms from behind, folding his hands across her abdomen, encouraging her to lean back against him, comfortable in his embrace. He kissed her neck, just below her ear, as they listened._

 _When the song reached the chorus, he sang softly along, his lips a breath from her ear, his voice deep and silky. It gave her a shiver. The good kind._

 _She closed her eyes and listened to the song, for the first time truly feeling music. Still holding her, he did the same. When the song ended, she brought up her hand to cup his cheek and drew him down into a kiss._

 _The next song was faster. Unexpectedly he spun her away. She laughed, grabbing the top of the sheet she was wearing to keep it from falling down._

 _"_ _Dance with me?" she asked, her eyes sparkling._

 _"_ _I'd be honored." He held out a hand like a prince, which made her laugh. She placed her palm to his and he kissed the back of her hand before drawing her close, placing one hand on her waist, holding her other hand up at shoulder level with his own._

 _At first he simply held her, dancing slowly, not in time with the music, then, at a dramatic moment, he twirled her under his arm and dipped her back. She giggled. Once upright, he held her close, both hands on her waist, and she brought hers up around his neck. A slower song came on. They shuffled around the bedroom, not caring about proper footwork or form._

 _When that song ended, he cupped her face and kissed her, and as had happened the week before at the jazz age inspired restaurant, her stomach fluttered. She felt sparks. She could tell by his expression he'd felt them too._

 _"_ _I prefer making love," he said._

 _"_ _You what?"_

 _"_ _Over fucking you. Tonight you asked me to fuck you. Last week you asked me to make love with you. I prefer the latter."_

 _"_ _What's the difference?" she asked, a teasing smile on her lips._

 _"_ _Semantics," he replied without missing a beat. He kissed her. She was glad he still had his arms around her because the kiss made her knees go weak._

 _"_ _I don't think that's all it is," she said once they'd parted. "I think fucking is more primal, more immediate and rough, with an end goal of physical satiation whereas making love is more intimate, slower, and romantic, and the culminating satisfaction has to be both physical and emotional. Fucking is what people do when they're having affairs. Making love is what they do when they want to show each other how they feel about each other…"_

 _"_ _In that case, I've change my mind," he said, fighting to keep a straight face. "Fucking is better. Definitely better."_

 _She giggled. "Don't fear intimacy, darling. Not with me. I'm the 'woman you like,' remember?"_

 _He smiled too, broadly, so much so that the corners of his eyes crinkled uncharacteristically. "I remember."_

 _They only managed about five hours sleep before they had to head back to their respective home bases. They'd made love again before doing so, after which he held her with her back against his chest on their sides, and kissed her shoulder._

 _"_ _Someday," he said, placing his palm against her lower abdomen._

 _"_ _Someday, what?"_

 _"_ _Someday I'll put a baby in you. It's what you want, isn't it?"_

 _"_ _Yes," she'd whispered, having no idea she was already pregnant. "I want us to make a baby together. After I'm divorced."_

 _"_ _When the war's over."_

 _"_ _I'm not waiting a bloody decade. Do you know how old I'll be in ten years?"_

 _"_ _Okay, not a decade then."_

 _"_ _Then when?"_

 _He snuggled closer to her, breathing in the sweet strawberry scent of her hair, and she relaxed against him, safe and content._

 _"_ _Severus?" She prompted. "Then when?"_

 _"I wish I knew, my Narcissa."_

 _"Estimate."_

 _He kissed her shoulder again. "Someday."_

The following morning, Euphemia Rowle came by, offering to take the baby away at Rodolphus' request (he'd promised her a large amount of gold to care for Nova. With Thorfinn dead and no family money left, she needed it, thus she was eager).

But Narcissa wasn't sure she could give her up.

She'd been mothering the girl alone since May 2nd, nearly four months, and had essentially co-parented her for the two months that preceded Bella's death, and therefore couldn't imagine handing her over to her brother-in-law's mistress, an embittered widow who'd never shown any interest in raising a child and didn't exactly ooze maternal instinct.

Besides, what would the Malfoys people who now believed they had a small child at home? She supposed, by calling the girl "sickly" on record, she could always pretend the child had died without too much questioning, but that didn't seem right.

"Euphemia just left," said Lucius, entering the nursery where Narcissa was setting Nova down for her mid-morning nap.

"Yes. She says Rodolphus wants her to take Nova. He sent a letter. He said he'd pay."

"Maybe he _is_ the girl's father, then," said Lucius.

"Does it matter?" Narcissa placed the stuffed bunny in the crib beside the baby. Nova promptly grabbed it in her pudgy hand and brought one of its ears into her mouth to suck until she fell asleep. "Shh. Let's fight in our bedroom so we don't wake her."

"Oh?" said Lucius. Once they were in the hall, he added, "So the master bedroom is ours now? I was under the impression it was mine alone, since you've now been sleeping off the nursery for over five months."

"As if you've missed me," she snipped. "You weren't here for most of that time anyway."

"I missed you. I love you. I always have. I'm not the one who went and fucking fell for someone else."

"I'm not going to apologize for that, Lucius." They'd reached the bedroom. He held the door open for her and closed it once they were both inside. It made her skin crawl to be back in here. She hadn't so much as stepped foot in this room since before the Battle at Hogwarts, when she revealed the affair to her husband.

"Shouldn't you?"

"I already apologized for hurting you, but I refuse to apologize for anything beyond that."

"Let's not discuss apologies, then." He went to the dresser, the top of which he'd at some point turned into a makeshift bar featuring a dozen liquor bottles arranged by type of alcohol. He selected the Slinksap-infused Bourbon, which was bitter but had healing properties. "Have you been reading the Prophet?"

"Yes. Have you?"

"I caught up last night. They've written of him extensively."

"I've skimmed the articles."

"He didn't care about you."

Narcissa braced herself for the conversation to come. She'd been reading the Prophet, yes. Closely, not simply skimming. She knew exactly what they were saying – about Severus, about his love for Lily, about the history Harry Potter had apparently viewed thanks to Dumbledore's Pensieve and the memories the boy had collected during the last moments of Severus' life. She'd read it all. Every word they'd printed.

"Did you hear me? He didn't care about you."

"He said he did."

Lucius chuckled condescendingly while pouring himself a glass of bourbon.

"He lied."

"He loved me." Her voice cracked on the middle word. Loved. He had loved her, hadn't he? And yet… Lily had been his last thought. Not Narcissa. Not their baby. Lily.

"He was using you!" Lucius laughed scornfully. "You're as pathetic as your sister was. Hopelessly in love with a man who kept you around simply because you were there, you were easy. Two years you spent on your back for him, whoring yourself out while he paid you your salary in lies–"

"That's not true!" Her voice rose in pitch as every insecurity she'd been battling since his death bubbled dangerously up to the surface, threatening to boil over.

"He treated you as he did the Dark Lord and Dumbledore! Telling you what you wanted to hear, seeking only to achieve his own means. You gave yourself away for nothing, Narcissa! Anything he said to you, anything he said about caring for you, anything he said you meant to him, lies! All lies! He loved one woman and one only, and he always has. Lily Evans Potter. Always. Or hadn't he mentioned Lily to you?"

"He told me about Lily!" cried Narcissa, fighting to keep her trembling hands still so her husband wouldn't see how deeply his words cut through her. "He told me all about her and yes, yes he'd loved her, he'd loved her in his youth, but…"

"But nothing! He loved her up until he took his last breath. You're daft if you think what you had with him was any more special than what he had with Juliet or Moira or Bridget. It was an exchanging of goods. He gave you the attention you sought and in exchange you let him use you."

"He didn't _use_ me."

"He needed an attractive, willing woman to fuck without fear of being dragged into making a commitment and there you were!"

"It wasn't like that!" she shouted. Her hands shook so hard she dropped her wand. He bent down to retrieve it but rather than give it back to her he placed it on the dresser behind him.

"If he loved you so bloody much, Narcissa, why wasn't there a single mention or memory of you in his final moments?" He cupped his ear as if she'd answered too quietly. "Eh? Well?" He brought his hand down. "I know why. It's because Severus wasn't thinking about you, he wasn't worrying about you, he wasn't wondering where you were or whether you were alright. He'd already sent you back to Malfoy Manor that afternoon to get rid of you; you were as good as forgotten."

"No!" She slammed her fists down against her thighs. She could already feel bruises forming against her delicate skin. She took a breath to calm down before continuing. "No. Severus said he… he said he wanted me. He wanted a relationship with me; he wanted a future with me, a life with me, a baby!"

"Men say a lot of things we don't mean when we're trying to get women into bed."

"He wasn't like that!"

"How do you know what he was like? You hardly fucking knew him! None of us did! You're delusional if you think he loved you. The only woman he loved was Lily Potter. When he was dying–"

"Stop it!" Narcissa screamed, covering her ears with her hands. "Stop saying that! Stop it, please, Lucius! If you ever loved me, I don't care if you don't love me now, but if you've _ever_ cared anything about me at all, you'll stop! You'll stop saying that. Hurt me in any other way, hit me, curse me, beat me, throw me out, but don't say Severus never loved me. It _hurts_. It hurts me. Stop hurting me." She burst into tears for the first time in over a week. As her shoulders shook with sobs he looked upon her with a combined expression of increasing pity and rapidly draining fury.

"Hurting you?" he asked, the mercy and anger replaced by his own pain. "You're the one who's hurt me."

"Hurt _you_? By having an affair? When you've had so many? Since I came clean to you you've called me easy and a whore and a slut and a slag, but am I? Am I, really? And if I am, what are you? I've been with one other man, compared to how many women you've had?"

"Those women didn't matter to me."

"They mattered to _me_! And Severus – I mattered to _him_! Just because you've taken countless women to bed without caring about them doesn't mean he did the same. How can you label me a whore for falling in love with him? He treated me as his equal. He promised he'd never be unfaithful to me. He said he wanted to marry me – _he asked me to marry him_ – and I said yes. I mattered. _I mattered!_ I don't give a damn what the Daily Prophet sees fit to print. I couldn't bloody care less what Harry Potter thinks. Fuck the Prophet and fuck Harry Potter and fuck Lily Evans and fuck you, Lucius. He _loved_ me!"

Lucius picked up the bourbon bottle, capped it, and tossed it on the bed along with his empty glass. Then he lifted his snake-headed walking stick and swung it like a Beater's club, smashing every single liquor bottle on the dresser, sending glass flying all over the bedroom. Narcissa ducked her head, covering her face, to protect herself from projectile shards.

She lowered her arms but did not move as Lucius made his way to the bed. He poured himself another glass of bourbon, sat, lowered his head…

And cried.

She did not move close to comfort him, nor did she speak, but she knew she shouldn't leave, not yet. Once the glass was again empty and his tears had subsided, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, looked up at her, and sighed.

"I'm sorry our marriage is ruined," he said.

"As am I," she replied, genuinely meaning it.

He patted the bed beside him and she sat, the bottle creating a wall between them. They stayed motionless for several minutes in silence, until he broke it with the question he'd tried over and over to answer himself during his time in Azkaban.

"How far along are you?"

"Just ask me if it's yours."

"Fine. Is it mine?"

She twisted a strand of blonde hair around her finger. She hadn't been coloring it since she realized she was pregnant and by now most of the black had grown out or faded, leaving her looking much as she'd looked the day she first approached Severus, complete with silvery roots. "What if it is?"

"If it is, I think we need to work on… us."

"Us?"

"On repairing our relationship. I don't want to raise a child – or children – in a dreary, bitter, unhappy home."

"Like the one Draco's been living in for the past three years?"

"Draco…" Lucius rose, placed the bourbon and the glass on the dresser top, then turned back to face her. "We are not speaking of Draco. Draco is an adult. He can handle… life. But a baby? A child? We can't expose an innocent child to fights like this, to the tension in the air whenever we're in the same room, to the lingering feeling that the Dark Lord is still here, somewhere. It's as if the Manor is surrounded by Dementors. It's not right."

"I agree," whispered Narcissa. "This is no environment in which to raise a child."

"At least we agree on something. Maybe there's hope for us yet."

"I doubt it," she muttered.

He ignored this.

"How far along are you? Just tell me the truth."

"About six months." She sneered. "I can see you doing the math in your head. Don't bother. I've already done it. You and I were last together in mid-March and prior to that, on our anniversary, February fourth. Therefore, it could be yours." This was, technically, not a lie. It _could_ be his… it just wasn't. She'd been to St. Mungo's in late July, where they identified her date of conception as being between February 26th and March 4th with a margin of error of no more than two days in either direction. The baby, as she'd always believed, as she'd always _known_ , had been fathered by Severus. Now she knew it had happened the night Nova was born, when he'd said he wanted to get her pregnant and she'd said no, not now, only to carelessly have sex again hours later using no protection and taking no precautions, as if they hadn't just had an entire discussion about it.

She took some strange solace in this, though. In knowing the date. In knowing it had happened the night he'd said, "I want you to have my baby." The night he'd said, "I want you to be mine alone." The night he'd said, "I want everything with you."

She had wanted everything with him, too.

She still did.

Lucius flopped to his back on the bed, the bed they used to share, and buried his face in his hands. "Six months. It could be mine."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," she said softly, reclining onto her own back beside him, hands straight down by her sides, as if in a coffin. "But you've hurt me, too."

"I know." He did not look at her, but he did reach over and place his hand on top of hers. She did not pull away. "Our marriage has been falling apart for a long time, dating back much farther than the onset of your affair. And it's my fault. When Severus and I fought in the woods, he said, 'You wonder why your marriage has failed? Look no further than your own actions.' I didn't listen because I was angry – I'm still angry – but I'll be Imperiused if he wasn't dead on."

She opened her eyes and rolled to her side, to face him, taken aback by this new information. As he remained flat on his back, she placed her right hand on his right shoulder.

"You fought with Severus in the woods?"

He turned his head to make eye contact with her. "I wanted him to fight me for you."

"And?"

"And he wouldn't, the infuriating bastard. He said some rubbish about it being _your_ choice, not _our_ fight."

"Doesn't sound like rubbish. I'm capable of making my own decisions."

"But you would've chosen him, wouldn't you?" Lucius turned to his side, and gently tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips brush against her cheek. "Narcissa? If he hadn't died…"

"I wanted to marry him. I meant it when I said I wanted to marry him. He'd asked me to marry him and I'd said yes."

Lucius nodded, finally accepting this. He drew back his hand, but neither moved away from their positions on the bed, on their sides, facing each other.

"What if this baby is mine? You said it could be. Would he have raised it?"

"I think so, yes. He loved me."

" _I_ love you."

"You say that, and I think you think you mean it, but I don't think you do."

"That's what he said." Lucius returned to his back, so Narcissa did too, both staring at the ornately painted white-on-off-white ceiling. Again, he took her hand and she let him, figuring he needed comfort in this moment, and, frankly, accepting that she needed it to – not that their physical contact would extend beyond this. Not for a long time. Perhaps not ever.

"Severus said he believe that I love you, but that you don't love me anymore, not the way… the way you and he loved each other."

Narcissa threw her free arm over her face, covering her eyes, forcing herself to breathe in and out slowly. She wanted to cry again, but for the first time in months, it was happiness that was bringing her to tears. Despite the dismal gravity of this discussion and what the truth would mean, knowing Severus had told Lucius that they were in love felt amazing, especially since her last contact with him had been that uncomfortable kiss in front of Bella, when she was angry and he was, to say the least, uncomfortable. All this time since the battle she'd been wondering how he'd felt about her, whether he'd died thinking she was angry with him, whether those last words in the notebook were more indicative of his true feelings than their last days together, and while either of those things still might be true, knowing it didn't effect how much they loved each other in the end made her heart swell.

They remained like this for at least fifteen minutes, holding hands, him staring at the ceiling recalling the fight in the woods, her on her back with her arm over her eyes, remembering him on the floor in the Shrieking Shack. Finally Lucius sat up and reached for the bourbon bottle and glass on the end of the bed.

"I'd offer you some, but…"

"I know."

"Are you… doing better? I was worried… during the trial…"

"I haven't been drinking. That day was an exception."

"Good," he said. He opened the bottle and took a swig directly from it. "Good that you haven't been drinking, I mean, not good that you made an exception. I want you to get better."

"I'm trying to get better."

"Good." Lucius stood, went to the dresser, set down the glass, and began to pour.

Narcissa groaned as she moved into a seated position. Fuck, she felt huge. She didn't think she could handle another pregnancy and post-pregnancy like the last time, during which she gained so much and lost so little she still looked pregnant when Draco turned two, but that's what she seemed on track for.

"I worry about you," Lucius added softly, not looking at her.

"If the baby's not yours, you want me to leave?" She asked this in a tone that was curious, not combative. It took him a long time to answer.

"Eventually." He downed half the glass in one shot. "But I won't leave you destitute. You can have alimony. You won't have to degrade yourself by getting a job."

"That's charitable of you." Narcissa got up off the bed and rubbed her sore lower back.

"What the hell do you want me to say, Narcissa?" His voice rose in pitch, not volume, which told her he was more hurt than angry. "I can't raise his child as you believe he would've been willing to raise mine. I can't look at the little tyke every day and have the evidence of your indiscretion staring back at me. I can't live with the constant reminder that my wife wishes my friend hadn't died so they could run off together. What can I say? I'm not the man he is. Probably not by half. I'm not a bloody secret savior who served Dumbledore for nearly two decades while pretending to pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord." Now his voice took on a hard quality she'd never known before his first stint in Azkaban. "I'm sorry I didn't spend half a lifetime lying to my closest friend about where my loyalties lie. I'm sorry my tragic death didn't make me the darling of the damned Daily Prophet. I'm sorry you had to spend the end of the summer preparing to testify on my behalf instead of filing for divorce so you could marry another man." He decided to forgo the glass and finished the bottle of bourbon in two large gulps before adding bitterly, "I'm sorry I can't be the surprise hero of the Wizarding fucking world, Narcissa. Some of us have to be the villains."

"You're angry with him," she said quietly, studying her husband, trying to discern which betrayal had him most upset in this moment – hers, or Severus'. She'd been so wrapped up in her own pain she hadn't realized that her affair wasn't the only thing bothering Lucius – being lied to by his friend for all those years had deeply wounded him too.

"Yes, I'm bloody angry with him! Who the fuck was he, Narcissa?" Though Lucius was shouting, he looked as though he might cry again. "I thought he was my friend, my closest friend, my _only real friend_ , but here it turns out he was screwing my wife and working for Dumbledore… I didn't know the man at all, did I? Did you?"

"I… I believe I did…"

"Did you? You knew he wasn't loyal to the Dark Lord?"

"Yes," she whispered, unable to maintain eye contact. "Neither of us were loyal to the Dark Lord, not for some time, and we both knew it."

"Well." Lucius slammed the empty bottle down atop the dresser. "How lovely for you, then, Pet." He opened a second bottle and began pouring himself a fifth glass – or perhaps it was his sixth? Either way, he was well on his way to a night of blackout drunkenness and a hungover tomorrow. "You are dismissed. We'll discuss this again at another time. If it's mine, we'll work on our marriage. If it's not, I'll grant you that divorce you wanted. But I can't speak to you any more at the moment. I can't look at you." His voice cracked on that last line. He turned away, literally unable to face her. "I need to be alone."

She returned to the room off the nursery feeling sick, scared, sorry, and more lonely than she ever had, save, perhaps, for the first nights after Severus had been killed.

What was she going to do? Eventually he would know the baby wasn't his and she'd be out on her own. How could she make it alone? She had little education and no skills. She'd never had a job. A pang stabbed through her as she remembered offering to be Severus' sexy assistant at the apothecary he was going to open after the war. She could brew potions, but she had no connections, no materials, no place to set up shop – what good could she be? And where would she live? Even with alimony, she was going to need money.

And what of Nova? One baby would be difficult enough to raise alone, but two? Both so young? Did it make more sense to send the child to stay with Euphemia Rowle? Would Nova be better off?

She needed someone to talk to, but with Bellatrix gone and Severus gone and Lucius unable to look at her and Draco barely speaking to her and Nova just learning to babble, her options were limited. Not for the first time in her life, she wished she'd been better at making friends. Of course, any friends she might have made years ago would probably be gone now anyway, dead or in prison, so what would it matter?

She decided, quite on a whim, to seek out the comfort and conversation of the living only person with whom she'd ever had a relationship she now thought might be work rekindling: Her sister, Andromeda.

Narcissa bundled the sleeping baby, placed her in the pram she'd recently purchased but had yet to use, and hurried outside before she could lose her nerve. The new wards prevented apparition unless one was beyond the gate, for safety purposes. With one hand on the baby and the other on the carriage handle, she closed her eyes and disapparated, reappearing just down the walkway leading to Andromeda's home, the home she'd been to only once, to deliver Severus' warning.

With no idea that she was about to have a guest, Andromeda Black Tonks sat at her kitchen table, sipping tea, listening for the gurgles or cries that would indicate her grandson, Teddy, had awoken from his nap.

The sixteen-week-old was just starting to roll over, a milestone he'd hit considerably earlier than his mother, who'd been over six months old before she managed it. Sometimes Teddy did it in his sleep, surprised himself, and woke up scared, wailing, needing to be returned to his back. He was a sweet baby, bright, with thick tufts of hair that changed color at random several times per day, just as his mother's had.

Though Andromeda hadn't liked Remus Lupin much, she hadn't been able to resist buying Teddy an adorable stuffed wolf with a crinkly belly, with the nonsensical hope it would someone connect him to his deceased father. Maybe she bought it out of guilt… she hadn't wanted Nymphadora to marry the werewolf. His lycanthropy aside, he was too old for her, and too poor, too indecisive, not to mention disturbingly unwilling to commit. He'd only married her because she was pregnant, and even then he practically had to be strong-armed into doing so.

Plus, if Andromeda was being perfectly honest, she _couldn't_ put his lycanthropy aside. She hated to think that the old myths of the importance of blood-purity had stayed with her all these years after she left her family to marry Ted, but she couldn't help thinking her daughter could do much better that some dirty werewolf.

When Lupin had taken off on Tonks, Andromeda was secretly relieved. She assured her daughter they could raise the baby together, Nympadora and her parents, and that the child would never want for anything. But Nymphadora and Lupin got back together. He wanted to be a husband and a father. Plus they were in love, Nymphadora said. She didn't need her mother. She had him.

It had hurt.

It still hurt.

It still hurt to be without her daughter. Every single day, every single moment the baby was awake, when she'd look into his eyes and see Nymphadora, it hurt.

It hurt to be raising her grandson, alone.

It hurt to be without her husband, the only man she'd ever loved.

She was glad the war was over, grateful, of course, but she would never get over those losses. It hurt as much four months later as it did on the first day.

A crack outside made Andromeda jump. It sounded like someone had apparated right into her garden.

Outside, Narcissa was mentally counting. First to ten, then twenty, then up toward a hundred. She'd done it for the first time the night of the Battle in an attempt to calm herself and she was still doing it. She'd started having… fits. Attacks. Moments of panic that she could neither predict nor control. And the only thing that seemed to make them better was counting. If she could get all the way to a hundred without needing a drink, she knew she would be okay.

The method had only failed her three times in four months and she hadn't gotten drunk at all, only tipsy… though she'd been dangerously close the night before her testimony to the Wizengamot, which is why she awoke with red-rimmed eyes – and why she had just a bit more wine before leaving for the Ministry. Sometimes the only thing that sobers up a person is more liquor, right? Or maybe not, on second thought. She'd gotten that bit of advice from Bellatrix, who rarely drank – so what did she know?

"Harry?" Andromeda called, instantly on edge even though the Wizarding World was in recovery and there had not yet been any attempts by surviving dark wizards to harm those on the side of the Order. Most former Death Eaters were already in prison, or awaiting trial in Ministry holding cells if they were lower level. Azkaban was being guarded by the Ministry with help from Grawp and the other giants he'd converted to their side, as the Dementors could not be trusted, though they were still stationed there for lack of anything better to do with them.

The Ministry was being fixed too, led by Kingsley Shackelbolt, the only wizard who seemed up for the task. At Hogwarts, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was preparing to welcome students in one month for the next year, though the castle hadn't completely been repaired. The previous term's seventh years had been invited back, any who wanted to attend, since it was believed they'd been cheated out of a year of education. Andromeda knew that Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger would not be among them, but she hoped at least a few of their peers would take McGonagall up on the offer.

"Hello?" called Andromeda, making her way toward the door.

Narcissa, having reached fifty-two, stopped counting and knocked.

"Who is it?" asked Andromeda.

"It's your sister," Narcissa answered. "Please. Please, I know you must be angry, but I need you to speak with me."

"You need me to speak with you?" Andromeda laughed at the absurdity. Though she figured she'd regret it, she opened the door. "Narcissa Malfoy, what could you possibly need to speak about with me?"

Andromeda looked her younger sister over, her gaze settling on Narcissa's well-developed midsection.

"You're kidding," said Andromeda, shaking her head, a snarky smile playing on her lips. "Well, shocked as I was when Bellatrix came to me in the same condition, I suppose since I didn't turn her away I shouldn't cast out you either."

"This isn't what I want to talk to you about." Narcissa stepped aside, revealing the small pram she'd hidden behind her. "I don't know what to do about this."

Andromeda regarded the pram and shook her head again. "You put a baby in it, Narcissa, then push it around. Glad I could help. Goodbye." She attempted to shut the door, but Narcissa blocked it with her foot.

"Please!"

Andromeda bit her lower lip as Narcissa twirled her hair, the way Mother always hated. It was a trait the two of them shared, one Bellatrix had not.

"It's hers, isn't it?" asked Andromeda, nodding toward the baby carriage.

Narcissa, knowing she meant Bella, nodded.

"I've been caring for her, ever since…"

Andromeda interjected. "I heard you lied to… to Lord Voldemort." Though Harry Potter had insisted after the Dark Lord's defeat that he forever be called by his name ("Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself!") she found it difficult.

Narcissa did too. She flinched upon hearing it. Expressionlessly, she answered, "Yes. I told him the boy was dead."

"But he wasn't."

"Obviously." Narcissa's heart twisted. 'Obviously,' a one-word quip, was something she'd unintentionally borrowed from Severus, and she heard his voice in her head every time she said it.

"Why?" Andromeda opened the door the rest of the way but still didn't move to let Narcissa enter. Narcissa took a deep breath, wondering whether it had been a mistake to come here, whether she'd lost her mind. She tried to explain – without revealing her relationship with Severus or the fact that her loyalties had switched long before the Battle.

"I asked him… about D-Draco… I was worried… he m-might be dead. He… answered me. S-said he was alive… I… I didn't care, I mean, I… P-Potter's being alive or dead, it didn't m-matter to me, so long as Draco…"

"Quit stuttering, I get it," said Andromeda, tossing her hair, which made her look so much like Bellatrix it caused Narcissa's heart to twist again. She envisioned it looking like a red and blue pretzel in her chest.

"I begged Nymphadora not to go," said Andromeda. "I threatened to put her in a full body bind to keep her here, but she insisted she had to be there, for her husband. Now they're together, I suppose. That's some comfort, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

The sisters stared at each other. From inside the house, there was the sound of a baby crying. It must be their son, Nymphadora's and Lupin's, Narcissa realized. Of course her sister would be raising the baby now.

"Come in," Andromeda said, exasperated, since she couldn't let the boy wail all afternoon and doubted Narcissa would leave even if she closed the door in her face. "Sit in the kitchen. We'll have tea. First I have to see to the baby."

"Can we have wine?" asked Narcissa hopefully. She didn't need much – just a glass. Just a dash of liquor courage. Then she'd quit for good and not touch it the rest of the pregnancy.

Andromeda ignored this question, heading toward the hall. While she was gone, Narcissa waved her wand, saying "Accio wine," and then, "Accio wine glasses." She poured one for each of them, remembering suddenly words Bellatrix had said some time ago – that she resembled Andromeda, who was "an alcoholic too." Putting this together with Andromeda's comment about Bella coming to her in 'this' condition, Narcissa could only surmise her sisters had seen each other at least once within the last year. She wondered when, where, and especially, why. When Andromeda returned, baby boy in her arms, she glanced first at her niece, then at the wine.

"You didn't say no," said Narcissa with a shrug.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Andromeda snapped, taking the bottle away but leaving the glass.

"Nothing is wrong with me." Narcissa took a long sip, ignoring Andromeda's judgmental glare.

"At least when Bellatrix came over to get drunk, her pregnancy didn't show yet."

"Bella came over here to get drunk?" Hurt flashed across Narcissa's pale face. Though she'd deduced that they'd seen each other, she hadn't pictured them drinking together, here, at Andromeda's house. What had they been doing? "She didn't tell me. Is that what you meant when you said she'd been to see you in… in this condition?"

"Did you ever get around to telling her _you'd_ been here?" asked Andromeda, purposely not answering the question. She sipped her own wine, balancing baby Teddy and his favorite toy wolf in her left arm. "Did you tell her you warned us before the second time Death Eaters came to torture us? Did you tell her that you were the reason Ted went on the run, because you told us they'd be coming for him?"

"I…" Narcissa shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose that slipped my mind."

"We've all kept secrets," Andromeda said offhandedly. "And we've all told each other things we probably shouldn't have. That's what sisters do, I suppose. Lie and confess."

"I miss her, Andromeda."

"She killed my daughter, Narcissa." Andromeda's voice was cold, even colder than it had been when she first opened the door. "I don't consider her my sister anymore. I'm not sure how I regard you, either, for the record."

"That's fair." Narcissa shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She sipped more wine. "I can only have one," she announced, tapping the glass. "Don't let me drink more."

"Trust me, I can finish the rest of the bottle myself. So. You and Lucius are expecting?"

"Well…" Narcissa's eyes darted around the kitchen, seeking something – anything – to focus on beside her sister, her sister's grandbaby, and the baby sleeping beside her in the stroller. "One of us is expecting, anyway."

"What?" Andromeda leaned forward, shocked. "It's not his?"

"I… well, honestly, I don't _know_ ," Narcissa fibbed, not yet willing – or perhaps not yet brave enough – to reveal the entire truth. "I had a little… _thing_ … so I can't be sure… Lucius says if it's _not_ his he'll divorce me, which I can understand, but at the same time… I mean… he slept around on me for twenty years and I never once threatened to divorce him, you know? Plus _I'm_ the reason he hasn't been sent to Azkaban."

"Because you lied on behalf of Harry Potter?"

"Yes. And because we didn't participate in the final Battle. And because I pressured him to turn in everyone… everyone who tried to run. Our former friends. The Dark Lord's most ardent supporters, including those who avoided Azkaban last time. He testified against Rabastan, Rodolphus, the Carrows, Yaxley, Dolohov, Macnair…"

"That must make you a target, if any of You-Know-Who's supporters are still out there."

Narcissa bit her lip, glancing back toward Bella's sleeping baby. "Yes, some of them are and I imagine they're not happy with us. But a lot of things might make me a target at the moment." Without realizing she'd done it, she set down her wine glass and moved her hand to her swelling belly as the other hand went up to twirl her hair. Her 'tell.' Andromeda nodded knowingly.

"Who's the father, Cissy?"

"He's dead."

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "His name died with him, did it?"

"If…" Narcissa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She didn't want to lie, she truly didn't, but at the same time… " _If_ my husband is not the baby's father, only one other man could be, and no one would be helped by… by knowing about it."

A sharp cry from inside the pram startled them. Narcissa lifted out baby Nova. She balanced the baby in her lap. Teddy's face lit up at the sight of the girl, his second cousin, or maybe first cousin once removed? He reached out to touch her.

"She's kind of cute," said Andromeda, not quite sounding like she meant it. "She has your sister's eyes but nothing else. Nice complexion. Sort of fat."

"She's gained a lot of weight since I started giving her formula. Bella was mostly breastfeeding, if you can imagine. The thought of it rather disgusts me, but she seemed to enjoy it. She said she felt like it was a bonding experience. Can you imagine? Bellatrix Black talking about having a bonding experience with a baby?" Narcissa's stomach contracted painfully as she pictured her sister, so contentedly nursing her newborn in the kitchen at Malfoy Manor, completely enamored with the girl. "Severus – _Snape_ – once saw her doing it and commented that he found it disturbing because it humanized her, which didn't mean much to me at the time, but I've found myself thinking on it since, for some reason. Maybe because of the Prophet, because of all the awful things they've printed about her. Anyway, Bella also insisted breastfeeding would take the baby weight off. No idea where she heard that."

Despite the intense hatred she'd been feeling toward her sister since Nymphadora's murder, Andromeda had to laugh.

"I told her that," she explained, catching Narcissa's puzzled expression. "It _does_ take the weight off. It did for me. I was down to my pre-baby weight in a matter of months. It took you ten years."

Narcissa scowled. "Two years."

"Five years."

"Fine, five." There was an uneasy silence as both contemplated the absurdity of this same conversation held between Andromeda and Bellatrix, which had taken place nearly a year ago.

"So you plan to raise that one?" asked Andromeda, pointing at Nova, who was now sucking on her own little fist, ignoring Teddy, who was still cooing and reaching toward her.

"How can I? No one knows she exists – or, more accurately, no one knows the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange exists. I… kind of revealed her to the Wizengamot, but… I… I let them think she belonged to me, to me and Lucius. Rodolphus suggested giving her a new identity and paying Euphemia Rowle to raise her. She was a Death Eater too, but too low-level, she won't go to Azkaban, no one cares enough to try and put her there. Euphemia came by this morning saying she'd do it. Rodolphus said there should be enough gold left in his and Bella's Gringotts vault to keep Nova fed and sheltered until she comes of age. I don't like the idea, especially since I discovered last December that he'd been having an affair with Euphemia, but what can I do? She's not mine. And I'll have my hands full enough with this one, especially if Lucius casts me out. I can't exactly get by on my good name, you know?" Narcissa bit her lip, awaiting Andromeda's response, hoping more than a little that her big sister would tell her she should keep the girl and raise her herself, that she'd be assured it was doable, but that didn't happen.

"Not to mention the damage it could do her," said Andromeda. "Growing up in our world with _that_ name."

Narcissa furrowed her brow and sniffed the baby's head, which smelled of powder and shampoo. "What's wrong with Nova? I think it's pretty."

"I didn't mean her literal name. I meant her parentage."

"Yes, well, being Bella's baby would be difficult, I'm sure, but…"

"I meant because of her father. Oh! Merlin's beard!" Andromeda's face took on an expression that Narcissa interpreted as a mix of revulsion and worry. "I do hope that baby and yours don't have the same father."

"You think I was sleeping with Rodolphus?" asked Narcissa, equally horrified.

"What? No!" Andromeda gave an involuntary shudder at the very idea. "Cissy, Rodolphus isn't the baby's father. I… how… how could you think that? You lived together for over two years! Didn't she tell you _anything_?"

"You mean you think my husband knocked up my sister?" This seemed to scandalize Narcissa even more. How could he give her a hard time about Severus and the baby she was carrying now if he'd fathered Nova. That would explain his willingness to raise her, though. Narcissa bounced the baby gently on her knee, shooting her sister a wounded look.

"You can't be serious!" Andromeda exclaimed. "Bella hadn't slept with Lucius in over twenty years!"

"Bellatrix slept with my husband over twenty years ago?" With every question, Narcissa's voice rose in pitch. This was not at all what she'd wanted, or what she'd been expecting. Andromeda shook her head. She quite literally couldn't believe her ears.

"You _lived with her_ Cissy! You were _close_ with her! Are you _really_ telling me you don't have any idea who the father of that baby is?"

Slowly Narcissa shook her head, feeling dense. She'd wondered, of course, all these months, since she realized her sister was expecting, but she hadn't figured it out.

"It's _his_ , Narcissa. The baby's father is Lord Voldemort."

Narcissa's hands flew up to her face. The baby dropped from her knee, but thankfully Andromeda's quick reflexes saved her. She grabbed and flicked her wand, using a hovering spell to suspend the infant in mid-air, allowing time for a stunned Narcissa to hold her again. Nova and Teddy both giggled. Apparently this little trick was amusing to anyone between four and six months old. Teddy was so delighted by it, his hair turned black and curly, like his cousin's. Nova's eyes widened. She was now able to see more clearly at a distance, and apparently this appearance alteration surprised her. She opened and closed her pudgy hand, as if waving to him. He replied with a toothless grin.

"Oh, dear," said Andromeda. She turned the baby boy to face her. "Teddy Lupin, you change yourself back right now!"

He didn't really understand what she was saying, but the distraction of being so close to her was enough and the thick hair on his head again became straight, turning bubblegum pink.

"How do you know?" whispered Narcissa, sickened by this. How had she not known? How had she never even suspected? She knew her sister loved him. She knew he used (and abused) her. She knew he had the ability to… she knew he'd raped Bella back in December, when she was already pregnant… but to think he could have… No. It didn't make sense. It had to be someone else. Rodolphus. Another Death Eater. Lucius, even. Not the Dark Lord. Nova was too sweet, too happy, too loving. She couldn't possibly be the offspring of arguably the most evil wizard ever to have walked the earth. "It can't be."

"Of course it is!" exclaimed Andromeda. "She didn't tell you? She told _me_. The day she came here, the day she came and told me she was pregnant, she sat right where you're sitting, we split a bottle of wine, and she got pissed off it, I took her to the bathroom to vomit, and she confessed that she was with child thanks to the Dark Lord, as she called him."

Now Narcissa felt sick to her stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the baby she, herself, was carrying. "Then it's settled. I absolutely _can't_ keep her. I can't! What if someone finds out? I can't… like you said, I'm already a potential target! I have to think about my son, and this baby. Besides, how can she grow up… how can she live… knowing _that_? How can she go through life if people know? It would be bad enough growing up in our post-war world as the daughter of Bellatrix Black Lestrange, but to be the baby of Bella and that… that… that _monster_?"

"I thought you were rather fond of him," said Andromeda snidely. "You were among his most dedicated followers, were you not?"

"As I told you the last time I called upon you, it didn't much matter to me who won the damn war, so long as my son was alive in the end," sniped Narcissa, though that wasn't the truth. It had been at the time she'd said it, she supposed, but at some point – perhaps when she'd seen what he'd done to her sister in December, or perhaps once she realized the man she'd been falling for wasn't faithful to the Dark Lord, and certainly by the time he'd held her down on the floor, threatening to rape her – she'd been hoping for his fall. Counting on it. Ultimately willing to help bring it on.

"I know how you feel," said Andromeda, unaware of the thoughts racing through Narcissa's mind. "I'd almost prefer a world with You-Know-Who running it, if it meant I could have my daughter back."

Narcissa sighed, remembering how Bella had promised her their sister would come around once the war was won, how they'd all be together again. "She'll need us!" Bellatrix had promised. She'd been so sure the Dark Lord was going to prevail. Maybe she'd have been right about Andromeda switching sides, but she'd been so very wrong about the outcome of the war.

"So, who is it?" Andromeda leaned forward conspiratorially. "Your little offspring's father? I promise I won't tell a soul! Just give me a hint or…"

"Wait," said Narcissa, cutting Andromeda off. "You said Bella slept with Lucius over twenty years ago? How do you know that? Did she tell you? Did they have an affair? She always acted like she hated him."

"She did hate him. I caught them in an alleyway once. We didn't speak of it – or of anything at all – until last year, when she intruded upon me after the first time my husband and I were tortured for information. At that time, she assured me she only fucked Lucius because he made her. _He_ being Lord Voldemort, of course. But I believe Lucius pursued her afterward, which she resented."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. It didn't surprise her to know her husband had pursued her sister. He'd screwed everyone else they knew and she'd always been aware that he desired Bellatrix too, she simply didn't know he'd actually had her, despite having wondered and worried over it countless times during his affairs before Bella went to Azkaban (and once after).

"The last time she and I spoke candidly, I accused her of letting the Dark Lord whore her out and she became angry, insisting it wasn't true. But I _knew_. I knew what he was capable of. What I don't understand is how she could adore him the way she did, especially now, knowing… knowing she more than just adored him." She gave him a bloody child. An heir. Her idiot sister had given the Dark Lord an heir. Narcissa's eyes darted down to Nova and she gave an involuntary shudder, wondering what it would mean for the child to have such pure unadulterated evil flowing through her veins. Would she grow up to be the spitting image of her parents? A wicked sociopath? A violent pureblood supremacist? A power-seeking murderous tyrant? This sweet baby?

"He was awful, Andromeda. The Dark Lord. He was awful to all of us but especially to her. I don't understand how she could hate Stepfather for all that he did to us as kids, but then turn around and _love_ the Dark Lord, a soulless sadist who frequently _beat_ her, and publicly _cursed_ her, and savagely _raped_ her…"

"Stop!" Andromeda held up a hand. "I don't want to hear this. If there's anything I don't want to feel right now, it's sympathy for the bitch who killed my miracle baby. Understand?"

"I'm sorry," said Narcissa. She kissed baby Nova's cheek, unable to stop loving her despite this information. "I understand."

"So you're going to do as Rodolphus requested? Hand her over to Euphemia Rowle?"

There was a long pause, during which Narcissa carefully regarded the six-month-old girl in her lap, feeling utterly conflicted. Finally, she nodded.

"She'll be better off, right? I shall tell Euphemia to spend all the gold she needs, but she'll have to take Nova far away, give her a new name, a new life. She shouldn't let her go to Hogwarts. I'll tell Hogwarts… I'll tell them Nova passed away, that we buried her on the Malfoy family plot. I already told the Wizengamot she was sickly. Euphemia shouldn't tell her anything about her parents, not even about Bella. Nothing. Ever. And she shouldn't tell us anything about her either, not her new name, not where she'll be living, not a damn thing. It's too dangerous."

Though she spoke with conviction, the thought of actually _doing_ this made Narcissa want to sob with the injustice of it all. _Damn it, Bella! Why couldn't you have just gotten knocked up by your husband instead?_

"She'll be better off," Andromeda agreed. "You're doing the right thing." She finished her wine and poured a second glass. Noticing Narcissa's longing expression, she chuckled and summoned over the tea pot and a cup. "You can have tea. Milk? Honey? Sugar?"

"Just sugar, thank you." Narcissa looked down at Nova, who was gazing lovingly, trustingly up at her. She felt an immediate twinge of guilt. She couldn't really do this, could she? Part with her beloved niece? Maybe blood didn't matter. Maybe if the girl was raised right, the fact that she came from a pair of mentally disturbed sadists wouldn't matter at all.

"Alright," said Andromeda, removing the toy wolf from Teddy's mouth. "If you won't tell me who you were with, will you at least answer this? Whoever he was, was it worth it? Did he treat you well? Was he in love with you? If he were still here, do you think you'd be together?"

"He treated me fine," said Narcissa. "Better than fine. But he wasn't in love with me. I think…" She twirled her hair again, in that way Mother hated. How much should she reveal? How much was too much? "I think maybe I was in love with him, though." It hurt her heart to speak of Severus in this way, in uncertain terms, as if what they'd had was exactly what it had started off as – a fling, an affair to satisfy physical needs, not emotional ones – as if they hadn't been more in love than she'd ever imagined two people could be.

Narcissa tried to bury her emotions… _thanks, Occlumency_ … and went on. "That's why, once I knew he was gone, I couldn't… I thought about… I was going to take a potion, to get rid of it." Her eyes darted down at her swollen belly. "I had been planning to take it that night, maybe the next morning. Only he died and I just couldn't bring myself to, you know… in case it's his." The tip of her nose tingled, a sure sign she was on the verge of tears. Fuck. Damn it. "But to your last question, about whether we… whether it would've come to anything… I can't say, but the fact is… He's dead, Andromeda, so there's no sense wondering… There's no sense _dwelling on_ what might have been."

Someday, someday she might be able to tell the truth about her baby's father, to share his name with Andromeda, to reveal their plans to marry and open an apothecary… but this was not that day.

The two remaining Black sisters talked for another half hour, during which Narcissa had two cups of tea and Andromeda, as she said she would, finished the bottle of wine. By then Nova was starting to get fussy and it was time for Teddy's bath, so they agreed to part, with a promise that this goodbye wouldn't be forever. After so many years of estrangement, they suddenly felt that they needed each other. No one else could truly understand them, or where they came from, or what they'd been through. That was something only to be shared by two sisters.

"Do you really think I'm doing the right thing by giving her away?" asked Narcissa as she pushed the pram out Andromeda's front door, desperate for her sister to tell her not go through with it. "She's all I have left of Bella."

"I genuinely think she'll be better off," Andromeda assured her, trying to suppress the pain that consumed her every time she heard, read, or spoke her older sister's name. "And you will be too. She could be dangerous, Narcissa. She's not just the daughter of Bellatrix. She's the daughter of Lord Vol… _Voldemort_. Who knows what she'll be capable of?"

"Yeah," said Narcissa. She and Andromeda hugged. It felt awkward, but also… nice. "Yeah, you're right."

"Goodbye," called Andromeda before shutting the door. "I'll see you."

"Yes," Narcissa confirmed, waving, hoping that, at least, was true, that they'd see each other again. Hopefully soon. Why not, when it seemed to be what they both needed?

Once home, Narcissa took Nova into the kitchen, popped her in Draco's old wooden high chair, and mashed up some banana and sweet potatoes for her to eat.

"Afternoon, Mother," Draco greeted her as he entered. "Hello, Nova!" He made a silly face at the baby, who giggled and threw up her hands, flinging mashed banana at the wall behind her.

"I spoke with Father while you were gone. He's out now. Meeting Nott at the pub down in Knockturn Alley."

"Nott's been released now, too?" She Vanished the banana from the wall and placed another mushy square of boiled sweet potato in front of the baby.

"He gave evidence against a bunch of them, first to turn on the others. Since they've got an overcrowding problem and he wasn't terribly important to begin with…"

"I see. No, Nova, don't do that!" The baby was squeezing the sweet potato between her fingers, enjoying the feeling, not even trying to feed herself. "For goodness sakes. Accio baby spoon!"

"Juliet Rosier was sentenced to seven years but she'll probably be out in five since she didn't kill anyone, far as they know. Yaxley only got three – they're going soft on former Ministry people, so long as no one _saw them_ commit murder – and he made a big show in front of the Wizengamot, promising to wait for her."

"Fancy that," said Narcissa. She used Nova's bib to wipe drool and food off her chin. "Anyone else we know make the papers?"

"Rabanstan got Life, like Rookwood. So far, everyone who broke out of Azkaban Fifth year did, since they were serving Life already, including Dolohov, once he's out of St. Mungos. Professor Umbridge got off, no prison time, and the Carrows are serving five each for using the Cruciatus curse on students. Their defense was that it wasn't illegal at the time, which is true, but all the same I'm surprised they didn't get more. Longbottom testified against them."

"What about your friend Blaise's mother?"

"They released her weeks ago. You didn't see it in the Prophet? She's too beautiful for Azkaban. The reporter's words, not mine."

"I must have missed that one." Narcissa tried feeding the baby from the bowl with the spoon, but she was much more content to grab the mushed fruit and potato herself, which meant a much messier meal experience, but one with less squirming and tears.

"So," said Draco awkwardly. He pulled up a chair to sit by his mother but not too close to his cousin. "For how long are you planning to pretend that the baby is Father's?"

Narcissa dropped the baby spoon she'd just scooped food onto. "Excuse me?"

"You're six months along, right?"

"Yes," she confirmed curtly. She reached for the spoon, used her wand to clean both it and the floor, and scooped more to feed Nova.

"Tomorrow is September first. Six months ago was March first. In mid-February, when Father and Juliet traveled to Paris, he had a procedure."

"A procedure? What procedure?" She remembered Lucius' trip to Paris, of course. She recalled how upset he'd seemed upon his return. But he hadn't mentioned any procedure.

"He can't have any more children, Mother. You'd said you didn't want any more and after… after what happened with Juliet, he wanted to eliminate the risk. So when she had her operation, he had his own."

Narcissa felt goosebumps all over her arms and the back of her neck as she was overcome by a cold chill. Could it be? Had he really gotten a procedure done that rendered him unable to produce another child? If Draco knew this, obviously Lucius knew this too – how could he not tell her? How could he let her continue to lie to him? Or maybe he thought _she_ truly believed the baby could be his and didn't want to confirm otherwise? Either way, how could he have done this, had a fucking major medical procedure, and never have mentioned it?

Obviously she was not the only Malfoy still keeping secrets.

"You're angry with me," she said, not looking at her son.

"Yes."

"Because I… because I had an affair? Because I'm pregnant?"

"No."

She looked to him with surprise. "No?"

"I'm not angry that you're pregnant and I'm not angry that you had an affair. I was at first, but that was over a year ago. I saw how much Father's..." He chose his next word carefully. "Side activities bothered you, and though your... thing... with Snape bothered me, I tried to understand. I confronted Professor Snape, though. Twice. Did he tell you? First time, I asked if there was something going on Father should know about. Second time, I straight out said I wanted him to stop seeing you. Both times he said I was wrong but I knew. After that, I told myself forget it; it wasn't my business. Especially after Father's fuck up with Juliet."

Narcissa was taken aback, both by this revelation and by Draco's use of the F-word, which she was reasonably certain she'd never heard him use before.

"I was angry at Father, too, for the record. But I'm past all that now."

"If you're not angry about… about Severus and me… what _are_ you angry about?"

Draco let out a frustrated burst of air that made Nova giggle. She squeezed banana between her fat fingers before sticking her fist in her mouth while Narcissa waited for her son to explain.

"Mother, one of my two best friends died in the Battle at Hogwarts. So did one of the Beaters on my Quidditch team and a girl I'd played with as a kid. My ex, Pansy, she's still in St. Mungo's because she caught a curse Auntie meant for someone else. Most of my other friends' parents went to prison and they hate me now, because of Father's testimony. Astoria's parents won't allow her to speak to me. My school was destroyed. My godfather died, my godmother died, my father spent months in Azkaban… And did I mention I watched one of my best friends die? I know I'm an adult, but I really could have used having a mother this summer."

"You have a mother–" she started, but he cut her off.

"No, I don't. I've been alone. You've barely spoken to me, barely looked at me. You take care of the baby when you can – Squeakers manages when you can't – and you cry and you drink and you lock yourself in your room for days at a time."

Narcissa wanted to argue that she hadn't been drinking much, but felt it was better to keep this thought to herself for the time being.

"You haven't even asked me about Crabbe. I was there, in the Room of Requirement. It was on fire. Potter saved me, he pulled me up on his broom, and we tried to go back for Crabbe but it was too late. _I saw him die._ We've been friends since we learned to walk and now he's dead and you haven't even asked about him, you haven't asked about _me_. You haven't asked how I'm holding up or what it was like for me at the castle, what I witnessed, what I did. You didn't ask what it was like being in Ministry detention – I know it wasn't Azkaban, but it wasn't pleasant either! You haven't done a damn thing to… to…" His voice trailed off as he struggled to control his hurt and anger. "I don't care that you had a thing with Professor Snape. I don't care that you're pregnant. I don't care that Father messed around or that his girlfriend had an abortion. I don't even care if you and Father get divorced. But if you think you can pull yourself together at some point in the near future, I'd like to have my fucking mother back."

He stood up, pushing his chair back, which made it creak against the floor. Nova, having lost interest in both the conversation and in eating, was running her hands along the high chair tray, smearing banana and sweet potato everywhere she could reach. Narcissa forced herself to look at her son despite how much it hurt to see him this way. She felt heartbroken for him… not to mention incredibly guilty.

"Draco, darling, please don't storm off. Stay. I'll clean up Nova and put her in the crib and then you and I can talk, alright, just us? I'm sorry, Draco."

"I… I just…" Draco's cold, angry façade broke as his face crumbled. He began to cry. "I'm sorry, Mother."

She wrapped her arms tightly around her son, which wasn't easy considering her belly between them. Draco now stood quite a bit taller than she was despite her heels, unlike the last time they'd hugged like this, over a year ago when Dumbledore died. Back then they'd still been the same height. She wiped the tears from his pale face.

"No! No, darling, I'm the one who's sorry. No matter how big you get, you're always going to be my little boy, and I'm sorry I've forgotten that. I love you so much, my sweet, perfect Draco. I'll do better. I'll be better. We can talk. We'll talk about everything, about Crabbe and Astoria and the Battle and anything else you want to talk about. I love you."

"I love you too, Mum."

"What the hell is going on in here?" Lucius entered, removing his traveling cloak, and going to the cabinet for a snack. "Son, are you crying?"

"I'm fine," said Draco, stepping away from his mother, embarrassed to have been caught acting so weak in front of his father. He'd bet Harry Fuckin' Potter wasn't standing around crying, seeking hugs.

Lucius selected an apple, took a bite, and waved animatedly to Nova, who grinned back toothlessly, thrilled at the attention.

"It's not yours," said Narcissa, knowing she had to get the words out before she lost the nerve. She moved farther away from Draco and Nova, placing a hand on her belly. "The baby. This baby. It's not yours, Lucius."

His jaw dropped. While he'd known – or at least suspected – as much, he was shocked by her revelation. In front of the children, no less. What she said next was even more unexpected.

"I'm going to tell Euphemia she can take Nova. I'll Owl her tonight. Nova's name will have to be changed and we won't have any contact with her once it's done. Soon enough, she'll forget us. It'll be better this way, for everyone. I'll deliver her to Euphemia in two days." She'd thought about giving it a week, but she knew the longer she waited, the less likely she would be to go through with it. "Once that's done, I'll start looking for a place to live. And I'll…" She glanced toward Draco, who looked just as surprised as his father. "I'll work on being a better mother to our son."

"You're a wonderful mother," said Lucius softly, wishing he hadn't told her she would need to move out if the baby wasn't his. He didn't know why he'd been so cruel, so cold, when all he'd dwelled on while in prison was the pain of losing her and worrying it wasn't possible to win her back. If he wanted her to fall in love with him again, lying to her about Severus not caring about her and throwing her out of Malfoy Manor probably wasn't the way. "You've always been a wonderful mother."

"I'm going to bring Nova up for a bath. Then I'll… I'll make the arrangements." Unable to look at either of them again, Narcissa lifted the messy baby from the high chair and held her close, not paying any mind to the smushed banana and sweet potato now staining the front of her champagne-colored dress. She kissed Nova's soft, dark hair. "It's what's best for everyone."

She had a small tub on the floor of her shower, which she filled with just enough warm water. It had a dip in the center and raised sides so the baby could sit up supported during her bath, which made the process much easier than when Draco was this age. Of course, when Draco was this age, most of his baths were handled by the squib girl anyway, but Narcissa found she enjoyed doing these things with Nova and was excited by the thought of doing the same with her baby daughter or son.

She hoped the baby would resemble Severus in some way. Not enough that strangers would identify him as the child's father, but enough that she could see him in their offspring.

"I didn't know, Nova," Narcissa said to the splashing baby. "I had no idea he fathered you. I had no idea he could. I… I wish I could keep you, but as long as you're associated with Malfoy Manor, since everyone knows Bella had been staying here and since you resemble her so, it's only a matter of time before people figure out I'm not your mother. I suppose we could… we could lie. We could say Bellatrix bore you but that your father was someone else, but Rodolpus wasn't willing to claim you or give you his last name, Euphemia said he didn't want you to have his name, he only offered to pay for your care. I… Maybe if…"

There was a thought that had been percolating in the back of her brain all afternoon, but it was a crazy thought, a ridiculous one…

"Maybe if Lucius were willing, we could tell people he fathered you. We could tell them you're the daughter of my husband and my sister. It would be a scandal, sure, but far less dangerous than for the Wizarding world to think the Dark Lord has an heir out there, somewhere. Oh, Nova. I wish your mum had had better taste in men." She ran a soapy washcloth over the baby's back and tummy.

"Muh-muh-muh-muh-muh," babbled Nova, smiling up at Narcissa.

"Yes," answered Narcissa. "We're discussing your Muh-muh. I'm not your mum, little one. I'm your Auntie."

"Is it because of me?"

The voice of Lucius jolted Narcissa. With one hand on the baby, she twisted to face him.

"Excuse me?"

"Is that why you're giving her up to Euphemia? Because of what I said earlier, about not raising two children who aren't mine?"

"It's not that." Narcissa redirected her attention to the six-month-old in the tub, cleaning between each of her tiny toes, which made Nova giggle.

"Then what?"

"I…" Did she want to reveal to him where she'd gone earlier? That she'd seen Andromeda? No. Not for the time being. "I've just learned who her father is, Lucius. As we suspected, it's not Rodolphus."

"It's not mine," he said quickly. Though she'd just considered asking him to pretend Nova was his, his defensive declaration annoyed her, as she recalled Andromeda's story of having caught Lucius and Bella in an alley two decades ago.

"I'm aware that she's not yours. I'd almost be less upset if she were."

"You would?"

"Almost."

He knelt beside her on the floor and gently took the washcloth. "You shouldn't be on your knees. It can't be good for your back. I'll finish this. What's left to do?"

"Her hair. She hates it so I do it last. It took her so long to stop screaming through her baths I figure I might as well let her enjoy the tub until it's almost time to get out."

Nova sneezed and Lucius washed her face while Narcissa moved to sit on top of the closed toilet seat. He was correct. Kneeling like that bothered her back.

"The Dark Lord is her father, Lucius."

He did not react with the same shock Narcissa had, presumably because he was either not as naïve as she was, or because he'd better known the extent of Bellatrix's relationship with their former Master.

"I was afraid of that." He filled a cup with water and placed it aside before rubbing baby shampoo on Nova's head, working it through her thick hair. "She's got a lot of hair for a baby. No one could miss the resemblance to your sister."

"Not her nose, though," said Narcissa. "And not her eyes. The color, yes, but not the shape, and she doesn't have Bella's lids. It's hard to tell, but it doesn't look she'll have her cheekbones or lips either. Those features… they must be from him."

"Tom Riddle," said Lucius. "There was a photograph and story about him in today's Prophet. The picture was from back at Hogwarts. He was in the Slug Club."

"Presumably only because he was pretty," quipped Narcissa.

Lucius chuckled. He lifted the cup and poured the water over Nova's head, shielding her eyes with his other hand. Her happy gurgling abruptly ceased, giving way predictably to screams and cries. Narcissa wasn't playing up the baby's hatred of this part of bathtime. She wriggled and wailed as he tried to rinse the last of the shampoo from her hair. Lucius finished, lifted her out, and wrapped her in a towel. She stopped screaming but glared at him as if he'd insulted her on a deeply personal level.

"Now I really see the resemblance to your sister. There's that lovely look of loathing Bellatrix always wore when speaking with me."

"You had sex with her once," said Narcissa matter-of-factly. "With my sister. In an alleyway."

"Yes," he replied resolutely. "You must have been to see Andromeda."

"How did you know?"

"Everyone else who knew about your sister and me in that alleyway died on May second. Bellatrix, the Dark Lord, Severus, and Nymphadora."

"Severus knew?"

"He did. He didn't tell you because he figured you'd suffered enough." Lucius handed Narcissa the baby. Nova immediately snuggled up against her auntie's neck and breathed deeply, not longer upset by the indignation of having had water poured over her head. After bath they usually cuddled for awhile, followed by a bottle, after which Narcissa read Nova a book, then it was time for bed.

"Was it only that one time?"

"It was."

"How I can be certain you're telling the truth?"

They made eye contact, neither wanting to be first to look away. Finally, Lucius said, "You'll just have to trust me. It only happened that one time."

Narcissa rose, heading into the nursery to dress Nova.

"Anyone else I should know about?" she called over her shoulder. "My niece, my cousin, my friend, my sister, Hortensia Higgins… anyone else I know?"

"You want me to tell you the truth?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise."

She placed the baby on the changing table and summoned a onesie and a pair of one-piece footy pajamas from the top drawer of her dresser.

"Very well. After Endora Selwyn, no one you knew for a few years. Then I spent a few months with Armithia Selwyn – she wasn't married to Yaxley yet. They started dating shortly thereafter."

"He's seeing Juliet now. He plans to wait for her, since she got a longer prison term than he did."

"Yes. But he's not been cheating with her. Armithia left him over a year ago. Their divorce was finalized back in the spring."

"Oh. I hadn't heard. Anyone else?"

"Wickett Rosas."

"Wickett?" She had been a second year when Narcissa was in her seventh year at Hogwarts. They only knew each other because Wickett had been invited to join the Slug Club that year. She had been a bright, charming girl back then, a Ravenclaw who played Seeker… or was she a Chaser? No matter. "When? How did you meet her?"

"She was on the school board of governors. She joined maybe ten years ago. She and I… We were the first two who pushed for Dumbledore's removal back in '93, during that Chamber of Secrets nonsense."

"Lovely." Narcissa had finished diapering Nova and snapped her onesie closed, then attempted to keep her still so she could get her into her pajamas. "So this affair was relatively recent?"

"It started in early '93. Ended in late '94."

"Anyone else? I want the truth. I've been painfully honest with you. You could do me the same favor."

He figured he may as well do as requested. After all, what else did he have to lose now? So he relayed to her the names of as many as he could recall through all the twenty-five years of their marriage. Not one-time flings, but anyone he'd actually dated, anyone he'd slept with multiple times. A couple of the women Narcissa knew well from their social circle when their son was small. They were women she'd considered her friends, until the Endora Selwyn affair taught her that one couldn't trust having friends, not really.

One of the most upsetting was Jade Harper, elder sister of Jak, the Slytherin boy Narcissa and Severus had caught with a girl in the closet of the Shrieking Shack, the Quidditch player who'd taken over for Draco the year he was supposed to kill Dumbledore. Jak Harper had been killed in the Final Battle. Jade, a Dark Lord supporter who wasn't a Death Eater, had escaped without injury.

"She's how old, Lucius? How old was she then?"

"This was in January, February of '95. Into March, maybe. It didn't last long."

"How old was she?"

"Eighteen, nineteen. Of age. Out of school."

"Practically a child. What interest could you possible have had in her?"

He shrugged. "She was good on her knees."

"That's vulgar."

"You told me you wanted the truth. I met her at the Ministry. She flirted with me. She still lived at home with her parents so I took her to that inn over the pub down Knockturn Alley…"

"That's enough detail, thanks." Narcissa lifted the clean, clothed baby and sniffed her, then rubbed her nose against her tummy to make her giggle. "Who's a happy Nova? Who's a happy NovaBlack? You are!"

Nova cooed, reaching for her auntie. Now it was cuddles time. Narcissa settled in the rocker. Lucius transfigured the changing table into a chair for himself and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, facing her.

"You asked for the truth and I'm telling you the truth. If you don't want to know, don't ask. Now I have a question. Did Severus tell you about the women he was with? You said you had an affair that lasted two years, but in that time, he saw other women, at least two. Did he tell you about them?"

"Not two," said Narcissa. Lucius opened his mouth to argue but she held up a hand to silence him. "Not two. Three. He was with three other women during that two year period. But he didn't cheat on me with any of them. He started seeing Juliet after I broke it off with him because I wanted to be a better wife for you. Hortensia Higgins was a one-night stand during that same period. And there's a teacher at Hogwarts he slept with off and on, but never when we were… on. He was completely up front with me, not only about being with other women, but about how he no longer wished to be with other women – how he only desired me. Back in… back in March, when I moved out of our bedroom, that's when I promised to be faithful to him, though he'd told me he wanted as much a few weeks earlier."

"You don't have to leave… right away," said Lucius, unable to hear more. Inwardly he kicked himself. Why did he have to add 'right away'? Why could he have simply said, 'You don't have to leave'? With a sigh, he continued. "If you're giving up Nova because of what I said…"

"No. I'm giving up Nova because she's the daughter of my sister and the Dark Lord. If anyone finds out who her mother is, they might discern the identity of her father, and if that happens, we're all in danger – not least of all, her. She needs to be far away from us, to attend another school, not Hogwarts, to have a new name, a new identity. Not only will it be safer, it will be better for her mentally and emotionally. It nearly killed me when I thought I was the daughter of my deplorable stepfather, and I'm in my forties. She cannot grow up knowing she's the spawn of such evil. Who knows what that would do to her? Merlin's beard, Lucius. She's the damned daughter of the Dark Lord!"

"Does it bother you that being the daughter of the Dark Lord might put her in danger, or are you really bothered by the thought of raising the heir of the man who murdered your lover?"

Narcissa refused to dignify this with a response, primarily because his suggestion hit a little too close to home for her comfort. She tossed back her blonde hair and averted her gaze, pretending he'd left the room, until finally he apologized and implored her to continue the conversation.

"I'm only saying, Lucius, that no child should have to grow up carrying that weight. Euphemia is not ideal. She's a bitch, really, and I can't stand her. But she'll use Rodolphus' money to give Nova a decent upbringing and then, maybe when she's old enough, Euphemia can tell her about us and we'll share with her the truth."

"Do you think she'll hate us for giving her away?"

"She might," said Narcissa, the knowledge of which caused her great anguish. "But I hope she'll understand it was for the best. I'm going to save a few things for her, for when she's older and we tell her the truth. If we tell her the truth."

"A few things? Like what?"

"Perhaps that picture of the Dark Lord when he was young, the one that was in the Prophet? Just so she can know what he looked like. I think… I think it's important for children to know what their parents looked like." She was thinking about herself, of course. She couldn't really remember father, couldn't clearly picture him, and it had always bothered her that Mother kept no photographs, not even a wedding album.

"In Bella's room I found a camera so I developed the pictures. Most didn't come out but there were a couple she had taken of herself with Nova, plus a few of Nova alone, so I'll save those. One for me, the rest for her. I have other pictures too, of course, from when Bella married Rodolphus and one of she and I at our wedding."

"Her and me," corrected Lucius. Narcissa flipped him off, continuing her list as if he hadn't spoken. "I'll keep Bella's Chocolate Frog Card collection and maybe some of her best dresses, that silk handkerchief she inherited from Grandmother Black, perhaps the quilt – that was the only thing of Mother's Bella wanted. I don't need it. I think she liked it because it reminded her somehow of Father, of the tents he used to build with her and Andromeda. Baby stuff I'll send along now, of course. Her bath toys, the stuffed loveys, books, clothes, diapers. I think I'll give her my copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard. I can always pick up another for…" Her gaze darted down to her belly.

"If you think this is best." Lucius rose, retransfigured the chair back into the changing table, and approached the rocking chair. "She's such a happy baby. It's hard to believe…"

"I know," whispered Narcissa.

Lucius kissed baby Nova on the forehead and bade them both goodnight.

Once he was gone, Narcissa cradled Nova, fed her a nighttime bottle, and summoned over the aforementioned Tales of Beedle the Bard.

"What shall we read tonight, Nova? How about my favorite, Babbity Rabbit and her Cackling Stump?"

Nova smiled contentedly up at her auntie. She was asleep before the story ended.

"Is it the best thing?" Narcissa whispered as she placed Nova gently in the crib. "Will it be better for you to grow up far away from here and from this? Or is your auntie simply a coward?"

She went to bed telling herself the former was true.

Even though she didn't believe it.

* * *

 **Still to Come:**

 **Chapter Fifty -** learn what happens to Nova, how she become Delphini, the name of Baby Snape, what Septima Vector is holding for Narcissa, and another chat with Andromeda.  
 **Epilogue -** in which we see more Nova/Delphini, grown up Baby Snape, and Draco and Scorpius, plus a final conversation between Narcissa and Severus.  
 **Lastly -** the letter Severus sent to Narcissa that prompted her to want to get drunk... and also kept her from taking the abortion potion.  
As always, reviews appreciated!  
 **-AL**


	50. Baby Snape, 1998

**A/N:** I couldn't find much info on how they handle mental illness in the Wizarding world, but since there's not even a St. Mungo's wing partially dedicated to people who have mental issues not caused by backfiring spells or curses and the way characters use words like "mental" and the one reference to Shock Spells, plus what we know of the (lack of) treatment of Ariana Dumbledore, it seems it's probably even more stigmatized than in the Muggle world, which is why I've chosen not to have Narcissa get any professional help for her previous postpartum depression, alcoholism, childhood abuse, or the depression she feels after the Final Battle. As a result, she goes through a pretty rough patch in this chapter, where we get to see a little more of Lucius' perspective in regards to what it's been like to live with someone who's suffered for so many years without treatment. Trigger Warning for suicidal thoughts. If you're going through similar, DO seek help! Review responses for chapters 48-50 will follow the epilogue. Thanks for reading! **–AL**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty – Baby Snape, 1998**

Around noon on Friday, December 4th, 1998, Narcissa took the Knight Bus from Severus' home on Spinner's End to St. Mungos hospital in London because the labor pains had became too intense to ignore. She thought about snapping her fingers to call for Squeakers, who was out shopping, or sending an Owl to her husband and son, but ultimately decided she'd rather simply go herself, thus she packed a small bag and stood at the edge of the property in his Muggle neighborhood with her wand out and waited for the only transportation suitable for a heavily pregnant woman unable to create a portkey.

Ten hours later, she was alone in her hospital room, save for a Healer and a midwife, when she gave birth. Thankfully it went as smoothly as her delivery of Draco eighteen years and six months prior. Half a dozen pushes and a little pulling on the part of the midwife, and the baby was out. Unlike with Draco, she had no post-delivery complications, though they did ask to keep her for observation just in case.

With encouragement from the midwife, Narcissa tried breastfeeding shortly after the baby had been cleaned up and handed back to her, and was surprised to learn it wasn't as difficult or uncomfortable as she'd been expecting.

She spent three nights and four days in the hospital, during which time she had no visitors. Presumably it was because no one knew she was there. But she didn't mind. She was content to spend that time bonding with her newborn, memorizing every feature of the baby's face, counting and recounting fingers and toes, and changing tiny diapers.

Narcissa thought a lot about Bella's daughter during those three nights and four days, about the night she was born, the night her own baby was conceived. She recalled how difficult it had been for Bellatrix, birthing a breech baby in her bed at Malfoy Manor, only her sister and a somewhat flustered potions master by her side until the arrival of a terrified school nurse, with the threat of needing to be cut looming over her and no pain relief potions. Narcissa thought about how it had reinvigorated Bellatrix to have been yelled at and insulted by the Dark Lord, how it had given her the stamina and perseverance she needed to continue laboring naturally, for the first time fully appreciating that he'd been addressing his mistress in that moment, the mother of his unborn heir.

The Black sisters really were so very different.

Though she assured herself on a daily basis that she'd made the right decision, bringing baby Nova to her new home with Euphemia Rowle back in September had plunged her even deeper into post-Battle depression, which she was only just starting to claw her way out of. She had been too distraught to return to Malfoy Manor without her niece, thus she went to the only place she could imagine feeling safe: Severus Snape's home on Spinner's End. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the door opened to her with a simple "Alohamora."

She had spent the next ten uninterrupted days there in complete solitude, reading Agatha Christie mysteries, listening to Muggle music on the record player, walking to the local playground after dark, frequently crying, occasionally drinking, rarely eating, counting to one-hundred, and brushing her hair. For some reason it gave her great comfort to brush her hair. Over and over and over again she brushed until the gray and blonde were shiny and the dead hairs were all stuck in the brush or blanketing the floor.

During the days she mostly wandered from room to room like a ghost… specifically, like the Grey Lady, an ethereal, heartbroken figure trapped between life and death, one who never smiles and rarely speaks.

At night, she fell asleep hugging his pillow, pretending Severus was in the bed beside her. Sometimes she even talked to him.

There were days she couldn't bring herself to get out of bed at all, as the world outside the comfort of the sheets and blankets seemed entirely too dangerous and not at all worth experiencing.

On those days she hid under the covers and heard her sister's voice reverberating around her head: "Your lover is dead. Your lover is dead. Your lover is dead."

On those days, she couldn't help but picture his pale, lifeless face every time she closed her eyes.

On those days, she couldn't even manage to immerse herself in the good memories.

Early on the morning of the eleventh day, she heard someone shouting her name from downstairs.

Draco.

"Mother? Are you here?"

"Narcissa?" called Lucius. "Narcissa, we're only here to check on you."

Lucius sent Draco to look in the kitchen. Narcissa could hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, which she knew must be his. She pulled the covers up over her face, wishing they'd go away. She wasn't in the mood to see other people. She was wearing one of Severus' shirts, which she'd been wearing for three days, her hair was a mess, her eyes were swollen from crying, and she hadn't showered in… awhile.

"I found her!" Lucius called to Draco upon entering the bedroom. Draco took the stairs two at a time.

"Mother? Mother!" He sounded at once panicked and relieved. "There you are! What's wrong with you? This is ridiculous. You need to come home."

"I can't," she said, her voice muffled by the blankets. "Everything there will remind me of Nova." She lowered the blanket just enough so she could breathe and asked in an anguished tone, "How could I give up my baby?"

"She wasn't _your_ baby," said Lucius gently. He summoned over the desk chair and sat beside the bed. "We agreed this was the best thing for her. For everyone. Including you."

"My sister is dead. My lover is dead. I gave my little girl away. I probably gave this baby brain damage. I haven't felt her move in two days. Maybe she's dead, like our first daughter." She turned her head to look at Lucius and was surprised to see the empathy and exhaustion in his eyes. "Severus is dead, Bella is dead. Nova is dead to me. My baby might be dead."

"Narcissa," said Lucius slowly, but he didn't know what else to say.

She blinked back tears. "Everyone's dead. I wish _I_ were dead."

" _I'm_ not dead, Mother!" exclaimed Draco, further entering the room. "How can you wish _you_ were?"

"Why wish?" asked Narcissa despondently. "Wishes don't come true. Besides, I think I'm dead already. Or I might as well be. If only I could starve to death. Or drown. There's a river not far from here. I've thought about…"

"Mother!" Draco shouted, going red-faced with frustrated anger. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you? Get up!" He stalked toward the bed, grabbed one end of the blankets, and yanked. "Get up! Stop this! So Auntie is dead? That's sad, but there's nothing we can do about it! Professor Snape, too! I'm sorry they're dead, but _I'm_ still here! Didn't you promise me _not two weeks ago_ you were going to be a better mother? You said we'd talk about Crabbe and Astoria and the Battle! But no. You chose to disappear instead! I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but this is _not_ what better mothering looks like!"

"Draco, wait for me downstairs," said Lucius, afraid his son's frustration, however valid, would only make matters worse in this moment.

"I will not! Mother!" Draco grabbed Narcissa roughly by the arms, forcing her into a seated position. He sat on the bed, twisting his body so they were facing each other. "Get. Up. Get up! Get dressed. Pull yourself together. You know, you're not the only one who lost someone, you're not the only one who's grieving, but you seem to be the only one who can't bloody function because of it! Get up!"

"Draco!" Lucius' sharp, warning tone reminded Draco that, though he was technically an adult, he was still subordinate to his father. "Downstairs."

Draco shook his head, fists clenched, but rose and, with one last look at his mother, turned on his heel and returned downstairs to the sitting room, taking the stairs more loudly than necessary.

"How did you know I was here?" she whispered weakly, too depressed even to cry, as she sunk back down on the pillows and pulled the blanket up to her chest.

"I've had Squeakers keeping an eye on you. She pops in and out and reports back to me. Before you get angry at her, you should know she didn't want to, but I reminded her that as owner of Malfoy Manor, I am her Master, not you."

"Someone watered down all the wine here, the hard liquor is gone, and the new bottle I bought the other day disappeared before I could open it. Is Squeakers behind that?"

"Yes."

"On your orders?"

"Not exactly. I told her to get rid of all of it. She left you a little and watered it down, perhaps out of pity or some sense of loyalty. She broke one of her fingers to punish herself for disobeying me."

"I should have known. I felt like someone was watching me. I thought I was going mad."

"Yes, well," said Lucius, unwilling to apologize for having kept tabs on her. "I haven't known you to be this bad off since Draco was a baby. I think… I think you should see someone."

"You think I'm mental." The pain in her voice was palpable.

"I think you're… sick."

"You wouldn't let me see someone when Draco was a baby. Your mother said she never should have let you marry someone with a diseased brain like mine and you said I wasn't diseased!" Narcissa's voice rose in pitch, a clear indication she was battling the urge to cry. "But you agreed it would damage the Malfoy name if anyone found out you'd married a woman who's bloody barmy. You called me _bloody barmy._ Those were your words. I overheard you. Then you said if you all just ignored it, my sickness would go away, but it didn't, Lucius, it didn't go away, I just pushed it down and down and down until I seemed myself again but here it is, returned to the surface and taking over, and I'm not strong enough to fight back, not anymore, not this time."

"I shouldn't have called you bloody barmy. It wasn't true and I'm sorry to have hurt your feelings."

"It _was_ true." She sat up, facing him. "I _am_ bloody barmy. Crazy. Mental. Off my trolley…"

"Stop it."

She threw up her arms. "Bonkers. Disturbed. Deranged."

"Narcissa, stop."

"Sick in the head." She pressed the back of her right hand against her forehead. "Nuts. Mad as a hatter. _Insane_."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Stop it, now. You're not insane, you're ill. Overdramatic and ill."

" _Mentally_ ill," she clarified. He shushed her.

"I was mistaken back then. Ignoring your problems didn't help eighteen years ago and it won't help now."

Curiously, desperately, as if he might actually have an answer for her, she asked, "Why am I like this, Lucius?"

He slid the chair closer, reached toward the bed, and took her hand. "I don't know."

"I know you can't stand hearing it but I loved him so very much." She let him continue to hold her hand but fell back and faced the ceiling again. "And I know you and she didn't get on, but I loved my sister. And I know I'm in no fit state to raise a baby right now, but I love my niece. I can't help thinking I've done everything wrong, everything, and there's no way to fix any of it, and I just want to die."

"I can relate," he said, as his thumb rubbed small circles on the back of her hand. That's how he felt about his marriage, about his affairs, and the way he'd been neglecting his wife, despite Severus' warning doing so might mean losing her – he felt he'd spent twenty-five years doing everything wrong and he wondered daily whether anything could be done to fix it. "I've made a number of mistakes."

"Lucius…" She looked to him with wide, frightened eyes, that tore him up inside because he knew nothing he could say or do would make her inner darkness go away. "I'm just so… _sad_. I'm broken. My heart is broken and my brain is broken and Draco is right, I can barely function. I want to be a better mother to him but I don't think I can be. It takes me hours to get out of bed because I'm always exhausted but when I'm in bed, I can't sleep anyway. I don't want to eat, it takes too much effort to shower, and my mind… my mind keeps going to these awful, evil, terrifying places… I close my eyes and see myself dying in a hundred different ways. I think about doing it on purpose. If I had more energy, I might do it on purpose. I can't recover from this. Not this time. I don't know why you even want me back."

He nodded understandingly. "Sometimes, neither do I."

She furrowed her brow and withdrew her hand from his as if his skin was hot to the touch.

"Please don't be insulted, Narcissa, but you're not easy to live with. You've never been easy to live with. You've always had nightmares… Don't you remember, in our early marriage, during those years when Dreamless Sleep was banned and we couldn't find the ingredients so you could brew your own, not even on the Knockturn Alley black market? You'd wake up screaming. Or you wouldn't wake up, you'd scream in your sleep, and I'd have to try to wake you. Even when we were dating, you would go through periods during which I wasn't allowed to touch you at all. You've never liked for me to look at you. It got worse after Draco was born, you wouldn't let me near you even to hold you, never mind being intimate with you, it was like you were afraid of me. There were times you'd put him in the crib and let him cry because you couldn't stand to touch him. Remember? Then the pillow incident…"

"I can't talk about the pillow incident."

"Then we'll skip it. But don't you remember how sometimes we'd argue and you'd lose your head? It would be like I was fighting with a stranger. You've hit me _I can't tell you_ how many times. I'm sorry for every time I've gotten rough with you and I know nothing justifies it, but you've been hitting me throughout our entire marriage."

"I have?" This didn't make sense to her. She recalled slapping him across the face a few times, including recently during a row about fidelity, but had she really been hitting him their entire marriage? How could she not know?

"Not all the time. And sometimes, not for years at a stretch. You only did it… Only during your… your bad moments. Your fits. Years ago. You'd seem scared, like you were panicking over something, something you could see that I couldn't, and you'd yell at me, or slap me, or hit me in the chest, usually in response to my attempts to comfort you, especially if it was a nightmare that started it. I learned not to try to touch you when you were like that. Afterward you'd cry and fall asleep and wake up like nothing happened and we wouldn't talk about it. I know it doesn't excuse the cheating but sometimes, Narcissa, sometimes I just had to bloody get away from you, to be with someone I could mindlessly fuck, someone I could do anything to, without worrying about what it would mean later, without worrying the woman under me would suddenly start to cry, or push me away. My father always said 'there's an unwritten list of things a man can't do with the mother of his children' and in the case of our marriage, it was a long list."

"I'd have fits, as if panicking?" Narcissa chewed her lip, frightened by the realization that these attacks she'd been suffering lately were nothing new. Suddenly she could remember – vaguely – having had them before, both as a young wife, and as a child. She used to hide under the bed when she'd feel that way, terrified seemingly without cause to be, until one of her sisters, usually Bella, would coax her out. She's gotten better once she was at Hogwarts, especially after Stepfather was killed, but when Draco was a year old, Bella went to prison, Lucius had his first real affair, and both the panic attacks and nightmares started again, much worse than they'd been right after she and Lucius had gotten married.

"I don't mean to make it sound like a regular occurrence, Pet, and it's not the only reason I've been with other women, but throughout these twenty-five years…"

She closed her eyes, longing to simply disappear – not to apparate, but to cease to exist.

"I've always been sick, that's what you're saying?"

"Not all the time, but it became a problem when we lost the first baby, it was the worst when Draco was an infant, and it happened again after the placental abruption… I don't think pregnancy agrees with you. And I'm worried. I'm worried about what will happen once this one is born. You're already unwell."

"So… what?" She wished she had tears left to cry but for some reason, none would come. "What do you suggest we do, then, if you know so much? It isn't as if the Wizarding world takes too kindly to witches with these… these _issues_. Lucius, please, I don't want to be committed. I don't want to undergo Shock Spells. I don't want people to think I'm unhinged. The public already views me badly enough, thanks to the Prophet's description of my testimony at your trial. I'd _hardly_ been drinking and they called me a drunk."

"I won't make you go to St. Mungo's. But you promised you'd try to be a better mother to our son, remember?"

"Our son is better off without me."

"Don't say that."

"All I can think about is going back to Hogwarts and throwing myself off the Astronomy Tower. I wish I'd done it that night, before…" She touched her belly. She was rapidly approaching her third trimester. "Before it was too late."

"Don't say that, please, Narcissa."

"I want to lean out the window, close my eyes, and fall. It'll only hurt for a second, and then it'll be over."

"Stop saying that."

"I mean it."

"If you say it again," he said sternly, "I _will_ have you committed to a sanitarium."

"Then I won't say it." She closed her eyes. "I won't say anything."

"Come home with me, Narcissa. With me and Draco."

"I can't. It'll be worse there. I'm staying here."

He sighed, rose, and stared down at her the way a parent would a child, not the way a husband would a wife.

"Very well. Then Squeakers will stay here too, to watch over you. She can continue to report to me on the regular and so long as you're eating properly, getting out of bed each day, and not drinking or hurting yourself, you can remain here and I won't have you committed."

So that's what she did. For the next three months she lived at Severus Snape's family home on Spinner's End with Squeakers, who prepared all of her meals (and insisted she eat them), purchased Ten Hour Sedatives, the Draught of Peace, and Dreamless Sleep so she wouldn't have to brew them on her own, encouraged her to take regular walks around the neighborhood, and made sure she showered at least once every two days. When she wasn't sleeping, eating, walking, or showering, Narcissa continued to read, listen to music, mourn Bella, miss baby Nova, and fantasize about the life she should have shared with Severus.

The first Sunday after she'd made the agreement with Lucius, Draco surprised her by turning up in time for dinner, which he continued to do every Sunday and Wednesday. Though she relished in solitude, she found she lived for these visits. She felt like she was getting to know her son again, truly connecting with him for the first time in years, though she worried he resented her for her decision not to come home.

During one of their dinners, he was finally able to talk to her about Vincent Crabbe Jr. and what had transpired in the Room of Requirement the night of the Battle. He confessed that he hadn't wanted to join his parents on the side of the Death Eaters and Dark Lord that night but that he ultimately did so because Narcissa had looked so desperate when she'd said his name.

During another, he admitted to having "done it" (his words) with Pansy a couple of times, which he regretted since he no longer cared for her in "that way." He then expressed how glad he was that she hadn't gotten pregnant like Theodore Nott's girlfriend, because he felt eighteen was far too young to be a parent.

Over dinner on November 1st, he explained his decision not to return to Hogwarts, claiming he would only feel as though he didn't belong, even though Astoria Greengrass was there and it was crushing him not to be able to see her.

It was a bit odd for Narcissa, becoming acquainted with this adult version of her little boy, but with each Sunday and Wednesday she felt them growing closer, slowly but surely repairing their relationship, which, she now realized, had been steadily crumbling since the afternoon the Dark Lord assigned him his task.

Lucius did not visit, but he did supply money in case she needed anything, plus he sent the occasional Owl reminding her she could return to Malfoy Manor at any time.

She primarily spent the galleons on maternity wear, since the dresses and Muggle attire she'd taken from Bella's room neither fit well nor suited her. She rarely ventured out of the neighborhood except to shop for necessities, but when she did it was by Floo Network to visit Andromeda, with whom her strained relationship was slowly improving, though they generally avoided speaking of Bellatrix and never of her child – all Narcissa had relayed to her sister was the fact that she'd left Nova with Euphemia because it was ultimately the right thing to do.

For the most part, they also avoided any mention of their husbands, did not discuss the father of Narcissa's unborn baby, and tried not to talk about Nymphadora, except when it related to Teddy through comments like, "He's fascinated by books about colors, same as his mother was." They kept their conversations surface-level… usually.

Narcissa did, however, eventually work up the nerve to ask Andromeda whether she thought she was mental. It was late October and they were having afternoon tea while Teddy napped.

"I've been giving a lot of thought to what Lucius said and I realized, as insecure as I've been, I've also been blind to my own issues. I did used to have those… attacks… when I was younger, and he was always so good about it, so patient, even though I know it must have bothered him. Now all I can think about is what if what I'm going through now, what if it's not merely the usual melancholy or malaise of mourning like I've been telling myself, but what if I'm really and truly sick in the head?"

"Of course you're sick in the head," replied Andromeda, as if this should be obvious. "Stop that pouting, Cissy. You wanted me to be honest, didn't you?"

Narcissa nodded.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I think you had the same rotten childhood Bella and I did and of the three of us, you turned out second best in the sanity department."

Narcissa couldn't help snickering. "Second best out of three? So I'm average."

"The most average," teased Andromeda. "Mediocrity has always been one of your finest qualities."

"Shut it!" They laughed, and for the moment tension was diffused, but Narcissa wanted to know more.

"You truly think Bella was sick in the head too?"

"I think we all are."

Narcissa reacted to this with surprise. "Even you?"

"Even me. Love, I know you've always valued our blood purity and probably still think Muggles are beneath you, but I wish you'd been able to put it aside back then so you could've gotten to know Ted. He was a wonderful person, with a kind soul and a huge heart and a great sense of humor. He never judged me, never seemed disgusted… I told him about Stepfather shortly after we started dating, he was the only person I'd ever told, until Nymphadora was old enough…" She squeezed her eyes closed as if trying to shut away the memory of her daughter. After a few deep breaths, she went on. "Ted _saved_ me. He showed me what being loved could feel like. He accepted that I didn't want to be touched in certain ways, especially at first, and he was willing to wait until marriage. On our wedding night, when I was afraid, he was patient and gentle."

"You were afraid the first time?"

"Of course." She laughed. "Weren't you?"

"I just closed my eyes and told Lucius to get it over with, then I pretended I was someplace else until it was over. I only did it because I was afraid he would break up with me, since I was so much younger… I was afraid he'd decide he wanted a woman, not a little girl, and while he wasn't pressuring me, as long as I was denying him… what he wanted… that's how I felt. Like a little girl."

"But you _were_ a little girl."

"Now you sound like Bellatrix."

Andromeda was clearly ruffled by this comparison to their older sister, but rather than respond to it, she asked, "Did Bella ever tell you about her first time? Not what happened with Stepfather, but the first time she willingly had sex, the time she considered the loss of her virginity?"

"I don't think so. She told you?"

"Straight away. She was excited about it, so much it almost scared me. She'd met You-Know-Who in that Knockturn Alley pub the summer before seventh year. He bought her a drink then took her upstairs to his rented room. He used the Cruciatus on her as a form of twisted foreplay. He did her so hard she bled. He pulled her hair and left her covered in bite marks and bruises. She showed me one on her chest, all raised and purple. She was proud, like it was a badge of honor. She loved it, she loved the whole thing, and she said he loved it when she fought back, when she pretended she wasn't afraid. It was before any of us knew the name Lord Voldemort and yet I realized then that she was lost. She was faithful to him from the moment they met right until she caught Molly Weasley's Killing Curse."

"She was fucked up."

"Worse than either of us."

"So Ted saved you. Perhaps if Bella and I had found ourselves a couple of Muggleborns to marry we wouldn't have ended up…" She didn't finish the sentence, as the painful reminder that Severus had been a half-blood flooded over her.

"Even Ted wasn't a miracle worker," said Andromeda, missing Narcissa's pained expression. "I've been battling the bottle for twenty-six years. Before that, back at Hogwarts, I used to burn my thighs with the tip of my wand. Only Bella knew. She's the one who taught me how. She did it to herself, too. And much worse."

"She hurt herself?"

"For years," said Andromeda with a sad shake of her head. "If I hadn't met Ted, if we hadn't married and I hadn't managed to get so far away from Mother, I might have ended up just like her. Or just like you. No offense. But like I said, he taught me what love could be like, unconditional love, and equality, and respect…"

Those were some of the things Narcissa had felt for the first time with Severus. Equality, respect… unconditional love…

"Ted showed me how to be a good parent, though it was a challenge at first. I couldn't stand the sound of my daughter's cries. But he helped me through. And I was a good mother to Nymphadora, Cissy. A _great_ mother. I gave her all the love and affection and stability we didn't have, Ted and I both did, and I think you tried to do the same for Draco."

"I haven't been giving him much affection or stability lately."

"He's an adult now and you're going through a rough patch. Give yourself a break, for fuck's sake. I'm trying not to drink because I'm afraid without Ted to keep me in check, I'll lose myself and ruin Teddy. I don't want that to happen with you and that one…" She indicated Narcissa's pregnant belly. "So let's make a deal. When you're feeling like you want to die, or drown yourself in liquor, or anything else that might be dangerous for you or the baby, you just come to me. And if I'm… if I'm having similar issues, I'll go to you. Promise?"

"I promise."

Somehow, just knowing she was not alone and had someone to go to if she felt that low again was a comfort to Narcissa. She started to exist with purpose again, no longer so weighed down by her sadness that she couldn't function. She did not return to Malfoy Manor, but she did start cooking. And showering regularly. And walking by the playground in the daylight. She even invited Lucius to Sunday dinner with Draco a couple of times, though she made it clear to him that she had no interest in reconciliation.

During a Sunday dinner in mid-November, Draco informed her that Astoria Greengrass' parents had relaxed their rules concerning him. He still couldn't take their daughter out over Christmas break or meet her on the upcoming Hogwarts visit to Hogsmeade, but the two could exchange Owls. They'd actually already been doing so, since she returned to Hogwarts on October 1st (the school opening had been delayed a month due to building repairs and the need to hire new teachers to replace those who'd perished in the Battle) but permission had been very important to her.

"She wrote to her mother over and over, swearing that I'm not at all like the Prophet made me seem." (The paper had called Draco a spoiled, selfish, attention-hungry young man who'd joined the Death Eaters in search of glory in his unending quest to beat his arch rival Potter, which had annoyed Draco as it made him sound ridiculous and immature. The Prophet further suggested his testimony about having been forced to attempt to murder Dumbledore was fabricated to extract pity from the Partial Wizengamot, who were encouraged to remember his age during the trial).

"Astoria reminded them that they liked me when we met last year, when I took her to that concert. And she also pointed out that she'll be seventeen in January, so while she won't need their permission anymore, she was asking for it because she didn't want to feel she needed to defy them. Her mother finally gave in and convinced her father to agree that we could write each other, so long as we're not spending time together in person yet."

"I'm glad, Draco," Narcissa said, genuinely meaning it. She took his hand. "You really like this girl?"

"I really do."

"Treat her well, then, won't you?"

"I will."

Three weeks and one day after this conversation with her son, Narcissa's newborn baby was deemed healthy enough to leave St. Mungo's. Thankfully the occasional drinking during pregnancy did not seem to have caused any harm (at least not any that Healers could currently see).

Again traveling via Knight Bus, Narcissa returned to Spinner's End.

She'd expected to find the place empty, save, perhaps, for Squeakers, but when she entered it was to discover Lucius, Draco, Andromeda, and Teddy clustered anxiously around the couch in the sitting room with the House Elf before them.

"Mistress Malfoy, ma'am!" squeaked Squeakers with relief, clapping her hands. She hopped off the small table and hurried to Narcissa's side, hugging her legs. "You is returned!"

"Where were you?" Draco jumped up from the couch and hurried toward his mother, stopping short when he realized what she was holding in her arms.

"I was at St. Mungo's," she said, as if it should be obvious. "Why are you all here?"

"Yesterday was Sunday!" exclaimed Draco. "I came for dinner but you were nowhere to be found. Squeakers didn't know where you were; she admitted she hadn't seen you in days. I apparated home to see if Father knew anything and he didn't so I slept here last night and when you still weren't back today Father contacted Andromeda."

"Blurgh!" shouted baby Teddy, reaching out toward his aunt Narcissa, grinning. She half-smiled back at him.

"Lucius Flooed and I rushed over," said Andromeda, her eyes heavy with concern. "I was worried… considering."

"Oh," Narcissa said weakly. "I'm sorry. I'm here now."

"You had the baby," said Lucius, unable to take his eyes off the small bundle in her arms. "What is it?"

"Sit down, Narcissa," said Andromeda, jumping up from the couch to guide her sister to it. "You must be exhausted."

"Not really. I slept fine in the hospital. I'm sorry I missed dinner, Draco. I lost track of the days."

"Of course you did," said Andromeda sympathetically. "You were busy."

"So…" asked Draco as he sat down beside his mother. He studied the baby's tiny face. To him, the baby didn't resemble his mother or Severus. It was sort of nondescript, with splotchy pink cheeks, a tuft of thin, dark hair, and a squishy button nose. "Is it a brother or a sister?"

"A sister. A girl."

"Oh, good," said Andromeda. "That's what you wanted."

"A girl," echoed Lucius. He sat on the arm of the couch and stared at his hands, processing this. He didn't know how to feel. His wife had a daughter. His son had a sister. But what did he have? A constant reminder that Narcissa had cheated and Severus had betrayed him. Still… he couldn't help thinking she was a cute little thing, all bundled up in her mother's arms, with that round face, long lashes, and heart-shaped lips. Damn, he had wanted more children. For over seventeen years, he had wanted more children. But Narcissa had not. And now she had one and it wasn't his.

It didn't seem fair.

"Have you named her?" asked Draco.

"Not yet. For now, she's just 'the baby.' But isn't she lovely?"

"I guess," said Draco, not convinced that any newborn could really be described as lovely. "One of her ears is bent at the top."

"That's because I couldn't quite get her out on my own and a Healer had to help," said Narcissa, staring adoringly down at the infant. "But she has the proper number of fingers and toes and her lungs are clear and her heart is pumping fine and as far as they can tell, I didn't…" Narcissa smile faltered. "I didn't give her brain damage, so…"

"She's perfectly lovely," declared Andromeda, rising. "And now that we know where you are, Teddy and I need to be off. It's almost his bath time. I'm glad you're safe and I'm glad your baby is healthy." She kissed her sister on the top of the head. "Perhaps I'll see you in a couple of weeks, when you're feeling up to getting out and about."

"Alright," said Narcissa. "Thank you."

Once Andromeda and Teddy had gone, Lucius suggested Narcissa return to Malfoy Manor.

"It will be safer, I think," he started, prepared to have to work to convince her, but she cut him off.

"Yes. I agree." She'd been giving a lot of thought to when – or whether – to return to Malfoy Manor, and in the hospital she'd decided it was time. She couldn't live at Spinner's End forever. The home wasn't hers, for one thing, and though she was certain Severus wouldn't have minded her using it, she also knew he hadn't wanted to raise a child there, and with all of the memories of him surrounding her, she honestly wasn't certain it was the healthiest place for her to be in these first weeks after their baby's birth – not that Malfoy Manor would be better, but at least she wouldn't be alone. "I'll gather some of my things…"

"Why don't you come back and do that tomorrow? Or in a few days?" suggested Lucius. "You have everything the baby needs at the Manor."

To his surprise, she agreed.

They apparated home.

Narcissa set her newborn up in the nursery but couldn't bear to leave her in the giant crib to sleep, so she had Squeakers bring in the bassinet from Bella's room. She placed it beside her bed, but then she fell asleep propped up against pillows with the baby lying peacefully against her chest, her tiny bent ear in precisely the right place to hear her mother's heartbeat.

"Your father would have loved you so much," Narcissa whispered to the baby often in those first few weeks. "Your father would have thought you so beautiful. Your father would have considered you perfection, just as I do."

Narcissa was leaning heavily toward calling her daughter Lyra, the name Severus had said he liked when Bella dismissed it for her daughter, but something kept her from definitively announcing it as her choice, thus she and Draco continued to call her "The baby." Whenever she was alone, she continued to call her daughter "Baby Snape," as she had throughout the pregnancy, but knew that couldn't last forever. The poor girl couldn't very well go off to Hogwarts in eleven years and introduce herself to the world as "Baby Snape." That would be worse than "Thignith Luthiuth." Or Betelguese.

Lucius avoided referencing the newborn at all, and often left the room shortly after Narcissa entered, though he tried to give excuses for doing so with the hope it wouldn't seem obvious that he simply couldn't stand to look at her.

On the three week anniversary of Baby Snape's birth, which happened to be Christmas Eve, Narcissa decided to apparate with the baby to the home of her sister Andromeda… but first she ran an errand she shouldn't have run, followed by visiting a person she should not have visited, because she simply could not help herself.

When she entered Andromeda's home a few hours after departing from Malfoy Manor, she nearly stepped on eight-month-old Teddy, who was pulling himself around the floor in sort of a half-crawl, half-roll.

"Come here, you," said Andromeda, reaching down to lift him up. "Come see your grandmother and your great-aunt and your cousin." She kissed him and he squirmed, wanting to be back on the floor to explore.

"He's everywhere lately. I lost him for a good ten minutes the other day. Found him in the loo. He'd pulled all the toilet paper off the roll, the little shite."

"Cute," said Narcissa distractedly. She launched into her confession as soon as her sister had poured them both tea.

"I did something this morning, Andromeda."

"What something?" Andromeda reached under the table to retrieve Teddy, who was in hot pursuit of a dropped sugar cube. She placed him in his high chair.

"I went Christmas shopping. I bought several new baby outfits and a couple of sleep sets and a stuffed bunny and new bath toys."

"So?"

"So I bought them for… for Bella's daughter."

Andromeda turned away from the cabinet, where she was seeking a snack for Teddy, to scold her sister. "Oh, Narcissa, that wasn't the smart thing to do. Why?"

"Why? Because it's Christmas. And because Euphemia is horrible. What if she didn't buy my darling girl any presents? What if she let it pass like any other day? I couldn't let her think no one cared."

"She's not even a year old. She won't know it's Christmas." Andromeda sighed, reaching into the cupboard for a box of rice crackers. "Well, as long as you bought them, I suppose you might as well send them."

"I dropped them off in person."

"You did what?"

"After I bought them, I went there in person. With the baby. I set her down on the couch – she doesn't roll yet, so it was safe – then I spent an hour playing with Delphini."

"What? Wait, who?"

"Delphini. That's Nova's new name. She hasn't got a last name. She's simply Delphini."

"Damn it, Narcissa!" Andromeda slammed the box down on the counter. "You weren't supposed to find out her new name!"

Teddy squealed, reaching toward the box, knowing his favorite snack was inside. Andromeda handed him a rice cracker to gum up, which he did delightedly, as his hair turned a yellowy-white to match.

"I named her."

"Excuse me?"

"Meda, I didn't tell you because I thought you'd be angry, but when I dropped her off with Euphemia back in September, I named her. Euphemia said, 'What should I call the girl?' And I wanted her to have a name, a nice name, one that still made her a Black, but not Nova, not the name chosen by Bella and the Dark Lord, not the name I'd previously given the Wizengamot, so I panicked and said the first name that came to mind: Delphini."

"That was the first name that came to mind?"

"Delphini means dolphin. It's a constellation. Actually, it's called Delphinus, but the stars are called Alpha Delphini, Beta Delphini, I think there was a Gamma Delphini. It's what I would've named Draco if he'd been a girl. Or what I would've named the girl I conceived after him, if she hadn't died. It's pretty, isn't it? Dolphins are smart and kind. I thought Nova deserved a good name."

"What's wrong with you, Cissy? You should have let Euphemia name her whatever the hell she wanted and never found out what the name turned out to be, like we discussed, and you definitely should not have gone over there to play with her and give her Christmas presents!" Andromeda sat down and summoned over a bottle of wine and a glass, ignoring her tea.

"I couldn't help it!" Narcissa reached for the wine but Andromeda moved it out of reach.

"You're breastfeeding, aren't you? You can't be drinking."

"Fine, fine," said Narcissa dismissively, knowing her sister was right. "I'd been the one raising Nova, though, remember? She was like my own. And… And I still wonder if I did the right thing. By giving her up, I mean. Perhaps I should have pretended she was mine. Perhaps I should have kept her. Sometimes I think about… about going back, about taking her back… but I have my hands full with this one now, and Nova – I mean, Delphini – she's crawling and trying to walk, she doesn't sleep on a schedule anyore, she's into everything, she's always sick, I don't know that I could handle that plus a newborn at the same time. Until a month ago I still needed a House Elf to remind me to eat, sleep, and shower. I'm not exactly the pinnacle of mental health… but I'd probably be preferable to Euphemia."

"What's your plan, then? Taking her back? Or are you just going to go over there every Christmas and bring her gifts but not tell her who you are or why you're visiting?"

"No. But I might send her things anonymously each year for Christmas, for her birthday… Euphemia hasn't bought much. Diapers, bottles, a few outfits. The baby's bedroom was so bare, Meda! She's got a constant cold and a cough. Her eyes are still dark but her hair seems to be lightening. She's lost weight, you wouldn't recognize her, she's not pudgy anymore. I don't think Euphemia was a good choice. She's only doing it for the money, and maybe because Rodolphus was fucking her, I don't know what their relationship is. Was. But it's clear she doesn't love Nov… Delphini. And I doubt she ever will."

Andromeda huffed. "You want her back, then?"

"I don't know what I want. But I know I didn't want her to go without any presents for Christmas. I helped her unwrap them. She was more interested in the paper than what was inside the boxes but that's normal for her age."

Andromeda shook her head, annoyed. "Does Euphemia know who the girl's father is?"

"I don't think so. The bitter way she talked, I assume she thinks it was Rodolphus."

"That's something, at least."

"It's funny because the way she bitched about Bella being a slut, you'd think Rodolphus was Euphemia's husband who'd had an affair with our sister instead of Bella's husband who got cheated on by him."

"Sounds like your social circle had quite the aversion to fidelity."

"Everyone's shagged everyone else, apparently. I was late to the game."

"By 'the game,' you mean cheating?"

Narcissa nodded, shifting her daughter from one arm to the other. It was almost time for her next feeding. "I won't pretend it doesn't bother me, knowing Bella slept with both Lucius and Severus and I never _really_ got the opportunity to confront her over it. We had a couple of quick conversations about Severus, once at home and once in the woods the night he died, but… I suppose I'll have to come to terms with it on my own, eventually. It's not easy."

"Why do you care that she slept with Sev… Oh!" Realization dawned on Andromeda. "Oh, bugger me! How did I miss this? That was his house you were staying in, wasn't it? Snape's? Lucius said it belonged to a family friend and I wondered, but… Oh, Merlin's beard, how could I have been so dense? Severus Snape is the father of your baby!"

"Yes," admitted Narcissa, avoiding her sister's eye. "Yes, he is."

"Did he know? Did he know you were pregnant?"

"Yes."

"Did he want it? Or want you to get rid of it?"

"He wanted it. He proposed to me. I was going to get a divorce."

"Merlin's beard! Does Lucius know?"

"He does."

"Oh Merlin's beard and bugger me!" Andromeda exclaimed, clapping her hands together, delighting in this even though her relationship with her sister had grown beyond wanting to hurt each other on purpose. "But what of Lily Potter? Snape's pathetic unrequited undying love for her was all over the Prophet."

"Don't remind me."

"You… Oh, it's beautiful!"

"What's beautiful?" asked Narcissa, clearly on edge. Andromeda, laughing, handed Teddy another rice cracker.

"You and Bella and Mother, you cast me out of the Black family for marrying a Muggleborn, you fucking hypocrites! All three of you have been to bed with half-bloods, all three of you fell in love with half-bloods, and all three of you got knocked up by half-bloods, but you cast me out like my relationship was somehow less worthy or unacceptable!" She positively cackled with delight over this, which infuriated Narcissa.

"I didn't know Severus was a half-blood when we started sleeping together," she snapped, as if this mattered.

"But you learned eventually, didn't you? Or was it a surprise to read it in the Prophet?"

"No, I knew, he told me."

"You and Mother and Bella, all pureblood purists and fucking hypocrite!"

"Not Bella. Rodolphus is a pureblood. He was a member of the Sacred Twenty-eight. And what do you mean we all got knocked up by half-bloods? You know who fathered Bella's baby, and Mother didn't have any more children after me. Unless…" She shuddered, thinking about the question of her own parentage. "Unless you think Stepfather was my father?"

"Mother had a second trimester miscarriage when you were maybe six or seven after struggling for years to conceive a son for that filthy child molester she married. And yes, I know who fathered Bella's baby. He was a dirty, dirty half-blood."

"The Dark Lord? He was a half-blood? No! I don't believe it!"

"Believe it! Everyone knows. It's been all over the paper all month. They did a whole exclusive on the early life of Lord Volde… him. His mother was a mentally disturbed inbred heir of Salazar Slytherin with a low IQ but a talent for love potions, and his father was a handsome, vapid Muggle who hated her and hated his son but was forced into marriage by a combination of pregnancy and Amortentia… You haven't been reading the Prophet?"

"No! I stopped reading it back in early September, when they reported on Lucius' trial. They hired back that awful lying Rita Skeeter and she reported on my testimony, calling me a 'sallow-skinned, steel-eyed, knocked-up traitor to the dark side, an overweight alcoholic in her mid-forties hoping to garner sympathy for her murderous better-half.' The headline was, 'Pregnant Drunk Seeks Leniency for Death Eater Husband.'"

"Which part of that did you find inaccurate?"

Narcissa's jaw dropped.

"Excuse me?" She was highly insulted. "Sallow-skinned?! I do not have sallow skin. I have lovely skin. Severus once compared it to porcelain because of the way it shone in the moonlight. He used to kiss me all over and leave little marks on my neck and shoulders because he liked the way they looked, he liked the way I felt and tasted… I have perfect skin. He _loved_ my skin."

"Well." Andromeda took a long sip of her wine. "That's… disturbing."

"Don't be a bitch."

"Can't help it. It's a family trait, passed down to me through my mother," she joked. "Try not to take it personally. There are documented bitches in the Rosier line dating back centuries."

Narcissa rolled her eyes and returned to the subject at hand.

"So all three of us slept with half-bloods, eh? I wonder if Bella knew about _You-Know-Who._ I'd be willing to bet she didn't. I wonder if it would've made a difference. She was legitimately concerned with blood purity, but at the same time, she was completely devoted to him…"

"She was obsessed, not devoted."

"She was both. He did such awful things to her, Meda. I know you don't want me telling you anything that might make you feel sympathetic, but…"

"She murdered my only daughter, Cissy. I carry naught but hatred for her and no longer consider her my sister. We've discussed this. I won't have the conversation again."

"She only murdered your daughter because he ordered her to. She would've done anything he directed her to do. As much as she liked to pretend to be strong and fearless and independent, he had complete control over her."

"Narcissa, I'm serious, I don't want to hear excuses. I'll never forgive her for killing my daughter; it doesn't matter how abused or brainwashed she was. And I'll not hear another word about it." Andromeda downed the rest of her wine in one long gulp. Narcissa sipped what was left of her tea, then twirled her hair around her index finger, unsure of what to say next.

Teddy was, by this time, done with his crackers, and Baby Snape was ready for her next feeding, so the sisters moved with the two babies into the sitting room. Teddy crawled around playing with musical toys and sticking the corners of large rubber blocks in his mouth while Baby Snape drank from her mother, unaware of the conversation being held over her.

"You told me before that you think you loved him, but he didn't love you?"

"I think he loved me," said Narcissa. "No, I _know_ he did. But I was hurting then, thanks to the Prophet, plus right before he died we'd had a fight…"

While she nursed the baby, she relayed to her sister all that had transpired between herself and Severus, not only the evening before the Battle, but throughout those two years culminating in his asking her to marry him and then learning he'd lost his virginity to their sister.

"It kills me knowing he died thinking I was angry with him," said Narcissa once she'd reached the end. She rested her now-sleeping daughter against the front of her body, with the baby's head on her shoulder, and rubbed her back in gentle circles alternating with soft pats to coax a burp, while Teddy tried to put his own toes in his mouth. "I wish I could speak with him, just one more time, and tell him I loved him, and that I'm not angry."

"Can't you?" Andromeda reached down to pick up Teddy, who had suddenly abandoned his toes and was sucking on the corner of the coffee table instead. She tickled his tummy and his hair turned pink. "Once, when Nymphadora was in school, Fourth year, I was called to Dumbledore's office in response to an incident."

"What sort of incident?"

"She was a Metamorph, as you know, and they're rare, which makes people… curious. It seems a group of older boys had been bothering her for awhile, asking if she could make certain changes to her appearance. She consistently told them off, but one Saturday afternoon they cornered her in the hall, dragged her into a closet, and tried to… Well, they wanted to see firsthand some of the things she could morph her body to do."

"Meaning?"

"I don't want to say it." Andromeda's eyes suddenly took on a hard, dark quality, one that made her even more greatly resemble Bellatrix. "They tried to assault her is what I'm saying. Physically. Sexually. But they had no idea what she was capable of. She morphed her fingertips into sharp claws and fought back, sending two of them to the infirmary, and the rest running. Then she went crying to Pomona Sprout, Hufflepuff's Head of House, and I was contacted… It's not important…"

Narcissa furrowed her brow. It sounded important to her.

"What I'm getting at is, while I was meeting with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Sprout, I noticed the portraits behind the desk. There was one of Phineas Nigellus Black. He was an ancestor of ours."

"I know…" Where was Andromeda going with this? How could Phineas Nigellus Black be of any help?

"But not just him. _All_ of the old Headmasters and Headmistresses have portraits painted and put up after they've died. They can speak to the current Head, to give advice or whatnot. Which they were certainly keen to do during my meeting about Nymphadora."

"That's awful, what happened to her." Narcissa, distracted by the trauma her niece had faced, hugged her baby more tightly. She was terrified something like that could happen to her someday, or to Nova. No, not Nova. Delphini.

"Thankfully, nothing really happened, except that she was scared. They didn't manage much of anything. One fondled her chest, but it permanently cost him the sight in his left eye. And that incident is what prompted her to consider a career as an Auror, which she loved. She loved being an Auror."

"What happened to the boys?"

"McGonagall and Sprout were furious, as was I, but Dumbledore went soft on them. Detentions, extra homework. One of the former Headmistresses, can't recall her name but she used to be a Healer, she was furious too. She told Dumbledore she wanted the boys expelled. I wanted them worse than expelled, I wanted them dead, or at the very least charged with a crime, but Nymphadora was afraid she'd be more of a target if half the Gryffindor Quidditch team got kicked out of school on her account. And Dumbledore seemed to think the boys could better be taught to understand the error of their ways in school than out of it."

"Dilys Derwent."

"Excuse me?"

"That was the Headmistress who used to be a Healer. Dilys Derwent."

"Ah." Andromeda did not question how or why Narcissa knew this. "But I started telling you this not so I could get upset over it all over again. I was thinking maybe you could see the portrait of Severus Snape yourself, speak to him, tell him you weren't angry, that you love him. I know it's not the same as having him alive, but…"

Narcissa's skin began to tingle. How could this not have occurred to her, not once in all these months? She _could_ see him, she _could_ speak to him, it was that easy!

"Oh, Andromeda, I could kiss you!"

"Please don't," said Andromeda, holding up a hand. "We're related."

Narcissa giggled. She'd said those exact words to Bella once, after the elder Black had informed her younger sister she wanted to have a baby.

"Okay, I won't. But I'm heading to Hogwarts. I'll go now. Most of the students should be home on holiday. I'll ask McGonagall if I can speak with his portrait. She'll say yes, right? Why wouldn't she? Damn it! I should have thought of this ages ago! My mind really _has_ been in a fog. Thank you, Meda! This is the best Christmas gift you could have given me!"

"Great," said Andromeda. "In that case, I'll keep the diamond earrings I already bought and save them for your birthday. Do you want to leave the baby here while you rush off?"

"No! He should see her. He… Meda! He can _see_ her! I can introduce them!"

Happier than she'd been since their Last Good Day, save for the first time she set eyes on their daughter, Narcissa bundled the baby and headed outside to apparate to Hogsmeade, hoping whatever new wards the school had in place wouldn't preclude her from visiting.

"You're going to get to meet your father, little one!"

Alas, it was not to be.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy, but as I've told every Ministry Official, Daily Prophet reporter, former student, fellow professor, and Harry Potter himself, we have not yet managed to get Headmaster Snape's portrait up and working."

"But why?" asked Narcissa, gently repositioning the sleeping three-week-old. "After Dumbledore died, it worked right away. I saw him. I spoke to him. There wasn't a six month lag. Why is it different for Severus?"

Minerva McGonagall raised her thin eyebrows with suspicion. "Technically, he abandoned his post before he was killed, but knowing what we do now... Why were you here in the Headmaster's office after Dumbledore died?"

"I…" Narcissa blinked back tears, staring down at the floor, unable to respond. It wasn't fair. _It wasn't fair._ She'd gotten so excited. She'd come all this way. She'd been so certain she was about to see him again, to speak to him, only to have that hope cruelly snatched away. "I…"

"Were you… friends? With Severus?" asked Minerva gently, suddenly suspecting they'd been _at least_ that. She stepped closer to Narcissa and patted her arm, trying to be comforting, despite her own discomfort. "You could come sit in my office. Perhaps you could speak with Dumbledore instead. But you must remember, a portrait is like a memoir, a shell of the person, a representation, sort of a cross between a sentient being and the subject of a photograph, but not to be confused with the living figure."

"I know it's not the same," said Narcissa, her voice small, her euphoria dissipating and leaving her with a sense of crushing despair. "But it would have been _something_."

"Narcissa?" called someone coming up behind them. A woman. "Narcissa Malfoy?"

Narcissa turned, coming face to face with Professor Septima Vector, who was wearing open dark violet witch's robes with a matching pointed hat over a long gray dress. Her waist-length black hair was pulled into a long braid. Narcissa recognized her from that time she'd hidden in the Forbidden Forest before coming to the castle with Severus.

"I was hoping you'd eventually make your way to the castle, like so many others," said Septima. Though she did not smile, her demeanor was friendly. "Your husband was here maybe three weeks ago. He wanted to speak with Severus' portrait too."

"He did?" asked Narcissa.

"He did?" asked Minerva.

"Yes. It was my turn to guard the door. I informed him that such a meeting was impossible, due to the issue with the portrait, and he departed without setting foot in the castle, but we may need stronger wards around here. It's too easy to get in. No offense, my dear." She smiled reassuringly at Narcissa. "We're more concerned with keeping out Rita Skeeter and her fellow press vultures, but the heavy damages Hogwarts sustained have made it difficult to keep the place secure, even with Minerva as the new Secret Keeper."

"Septima!" exclaimed McGonagall in a scolding tone. "You can't reveal the identity of a place's Secret Keeper. That defeats the entire purpose of having a Secret Keeper."

"Does it matter? Your Secret Keeping skills seem to be lacking, since everyone and their brother can simply come and go."

"It's a work in progress," said McGonagall, her lips in a straight line, the way she'd often looked at Narcissa when she'd been a struggling student in the professor's Transfiguration classes. "I am confident we'll manage to fix and strengthen the wards around Hogwarts in the near future."

"I should go," said Narcissa, adjusting the baby, who was starting to feel heavy in her arms.

"Not yet, please. I have something in my chambers that may interest you. I would have given it to your husband, but…" Septima glanced at Minerva, who now looked thoroughly confused. "I felt it would be better to hand it to you directly. Follow me?"

Numbly, Narcissa nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy," called Minerva genuinely as the pair walked off down the hall. She was, too. She hadn't minded turning away most of those who came calling about Snape's portrait, figuring they were seeking confirmation of what they read in the Prophet, or perhaps a bit of juicy gossip to share or print, but those who inquired with clear hearts and good intentions, like Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, newly appointed Minister Kingsley Shackelbolt, Septima Vector, and now Narcissa Malfoy, were hardest to turn away. And though she was no gossip herself and therefore would never express her suspicions aloud, she couldn't help thinking there must be a reason the new mother brought her baby with her to the castle to visit the portrait of Severus Snape.

They did not speak on the walk to Septima Vector's chambers. Once safely locked inside, Septima offered Narcissa a seat and a glass of gillywater, then sat opposite her and said, "I've been waiting for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I would have Owled, but I thought you should only feel compelled to come once you were ready. I've had Dobby the House Elf keeping lookout for you; that's how I knew you were here with McGonagall. I have a couple of things that belong to you and a couple of other things I thought you should have. You know who I am, don't you?"

"You were… his… friend."

"I suppose you could call us friends. Yes, yes, that's accurate. Until he killed Dumbledore, we were friends. After that, I didn't know what to make of him. I had my suspicions. I thought Dumbledore might have been sick, that his murder might have been arranged, and that's why I didn't hate or fear Severus like the others, but I did share their sense of betrayal. Perhaps I simply couldn't believe he would have done it if it hadn't been prearranged, or perhaps I had my doubts because Dumbledore had always been unwavering when it came to his confidence in Severus' loyalty. Either way, I was relieved to learn I wasn't wrong. So while I certainly didn't know him as you did, yes, I suppose it's fair to call us friends. Did he tell you that we met?"

"Excuse me?" Septima spoke clearly, but very quickly, and thanks to the crushing blow just dealt by Minerva, Narcissa was having trouble focusing.

"You and I. We met. Here at Hogwarts. In his sitting room. Middle of the night. End of April. You wouldn't remember. You were wasted."

"I… You… I was wasted?"

"You came to Hogwarts in the middle of the night back in April. You'd Splinched yourself. You were pissed. Couldn't even wake you up. He was worried. He had some twitchy little House Elf come get me. I helped him care for you, but ultimately you needed to sleep it off. Remember?"

"I… I remember the next morning. But he never told me that you…"

"No matter." Septima sat back in her plush gray chair and crossed one knee over the other. "As I believe you're aware, he and I used to fuck each other, but that stopped once he went and developed feelings for you like an idiot."

"Like an…"

"I don't know how much he told you about me, but I don't have much patience for feelings or romance. I liked Severus because he was like me – not looking for an emotional connection, no desire to develop a relationship, completely closed off to intimacy – but then you went and ruined him."

"I ruined…?"

"It's alright, I forgive you. You made him happy. I could tell. He sat on the couch in his sitting room and stroked your hair and told me he loved you while I sat approximately as far away as I'm seated from you now, smoking a cigarette. Speaking of which, do you mind?" She pulled a pack from inside the sleeve of her long, dark violet robe. "I don't usually ask others whether they care what I do in my own chambers, but since you've got that little one…"

"I… you can smoke," said Narcissa. Septima Vector spoke very quickly and confidently, the complete opposite of Narcissa, and it was difficult to process.

"Thanks." Septima lit it using her wand, Summoned over an ashtray, then relaxed again, knees crossed, puffing away. "He didn't have much experience with alcoholics, that's why he wanted my help. I checked you over. I was worried because you'd been abused."

"I'd been…"

Septima nodded matter-of-factly and began ticking off the evidence on her fingers. "Healed swelling around your throat, a recent fat lip, speckled bruising above your eye, red wrists, scarred back, cuts in your palms… He swore it wasn't your husband doing it."

"It… wasn't."

"Good. I've never had patience for shit like that and neither did Severus. Something else we had in common. He got me out of a jam once, when a man I'd kicked aside didn't seem to understand the meaning of the word no, and later, we'd talked about it a bit, he told me about his parents, so I couldn't believe he was the one hurting you."

"He... I… I'm fine," insisted Narcissa, uncomfortable.

"Glad to hear it. You were pregnant at the time, maybe two months along. I didn't tell Severus about the baby because I wasn't sure whether he knew."

"He knew."

"Is it his?"

"She…" Narcissa looked down at the baby asleep in her arms. She'd confessed to her sister, but to Septima Vector? A stranger? Could this woman be trusted? Severus had trusted her. Had he been right to do so?

"You don't have to answer. Of course she's his, otherwise you would have gotten offended and said something like, 'No, of course not, I'm married!' straight away." Septima puffed away on her cigarette, not at all surprised by this presumed confirmation.

"I wanted more than to see his portrait," Narcissa began, her cheeks pink from the embarrassment of having been so easily read by this professor she didn't even know. "I wanted him to see her. And I wanted… We'd had an argument the last time we saw each other. The Battle started that night. He died before… I never got to tell him… I'm afraid he died thinking I was angry."

"Couples get angry. Doesn't mean they love each other any less. Not that I'm an expert." Septima took a long drag and let it out slowly, enjoying the swirl of the smoke in front of her. "I've never been in love. My mother was an alcoholic and a prostitute and my father was the one who forced her into it. The prostitution, I mean, not the alcoholism. That was a side effect of the depression that took over once he left. She loved him. She loved him so much she let him turn her out. She was an addict whose sense of self-worth was entirely wrapped up in his opinion of her. I vowed from a very early age never to love someone so much I forgot to love myself first. And I never have. That's something I thought I had in common with Severus. Always looking out for Number One." She indicated herself. "But I could tell when I saw him with you that night… I knew I'd lost him, lost him completely, never to be retrieved. Not that I ever had him, not really, but I enjoyed keeping him around on an as-needed basis for fifteen-plus years."

"I'm… sorry?"

"Don't be," said Septima dismissively. "That's life. But my initial point was, people can get angry and still love each other, and that's okay. He was angry at you the night you were drunk, but he still talked about wanting to disappear with you."

Her silver eyes widened. "He did?"

"Mm-hm." Septima's expression was one of disgust and pity. "He said he loved you – and I quote – 'As I've never loved anyone.'"

Narcissa's heart fluttered in a way she hadn't felt since the day before he died.

"As he'd never loved anyone?"

"That's what he said." She took a long drag and puffed the smoke out in rings. "When did you... when did you and Severus start dating?"

"It's hard to say." Narcissa slipped her pinkie into the baby's hand. The infant's tiny fingers closed tightly around her mother's finger. Narcissa brought the baby's fist up to her mouth to kiss it. "I approached him over two and a half years ago asking..." Pink speckles dotted her cheeks as she again grew embarrassed by the truth. "I was lonely. My husband was having an affair with my niece. He hadn't been interested in me in some time. My son was getting older, he didn't need me. I felt lost. I asked Severus for a non-emotional affair, but for me, I think it was always emotional. That first time... That first time, we kissed, and he carried me to his bed, and he told me over and over that I was beautiful and that he wanted me, that he desired me and had to have me, and for the first time in a long time I felt..." She broke off, catching Septima's expression of rapt attention.

"You felt wanted?" Septima prompted.

Narcissa nodded as the blush in her cheeks deepened. "I liked what he was saying. The first time we saw each other after that was at Malfoy Manor. The moment my husband left the room, we were all over each other. I couldn't wait to be alone with him again. I think he only wanted my physically then, but I needed more."

"I slept with him for fifteen years and I don't think he ever once called me beautiful, carried me anywhere, or said he had to have me. Most of our talk in bed centered around me saying, 'No, do it _this_ way,' and him telling me to stop bloody micromanaging." She laughed and Narcissa couldn't help chucking too. "Something must have changed with him at some point, though, eh?"

"We started talking, writing each other, getting to know each other better, and one night while we were... being intimate... he called me _his_ and I thought I might die from the thrill of it, but..."

"But...?"

"Last December, right before Christmas, he was at Malfoy Manor on business for the Dark Lord. We'd basically been separated for six months at that point. I was trying to be a better wife, and he was... well, I suppose he was avoiding me. But we were in the hallway, and he kissed me, and I asked him to take me to bed, and he said he couldn't, but he wanted to... and that's when... and that's when we stopped denying..." She fingered the material of her burgundy dress, recalling the fluttering she'd felt in her heart and gut when he'd leaned in and pressed his lips to hers that night. "He asked me out for New Years Eve. It was our first real date. I was already so hopelessly in love with him, but I couldn't say it out loud. I could barely say it to myself."

"So you started dating on New Year Eve."

"Yes. We went to the cinema, the theatre, dancing, to dinner, we cooked together at his home, we spent nights together... I wish we'd had more time. He told me shortly before Easter that he was in love with me. Stupidly, he said. Stupidly in love with me."

"That sounds like him," said Septima, smiling serenely. "He _would_ think falling in love was stupid."

"A couple of days before he was killed, he asked me to marry him. I couldn't wait to marry him. Then the Prophet spent the last six months reporting on his undying love for Lily Potter and how he could never even consider another woman after her..."

"They didn't know him," said Septima, a look of utmost disgust replacing her smile. She hated the Prophet. "Those peddlers of pathetic melodrama turned him into a tragic lovesick virgin _martyr_ simply to sell papers. They don't give a flying fuck about the truth."

Narcissa nodded vehemently, glad to connect with someone else who understood. Her sister didn't get it, she never would, and Lucius was too bitter about the betrayal to commiserate with her, but Septima, she had _known_ him.

"I know he was a man of countless secrets, and despite the many he revealed I still wasn't privy to _all_ of them, but I knew him as a _person_ ," said Narcissa insistently. "I knew his heart!"

"I believe you did, my dear girl," said Septima, leaning forward to pat Narcissa's knee. She reclined back into her chair. "He told me he'd told you the secret only Dumbledore knew, about why he turned his back on Vold... Voldemort." Like Andromeda, Septima Vector still struggled to say his name. "Severus said he'd shared it with you and you alone and he'd kill to keep you safe. I also asked him whether he'd told you he loved you and he said he told you every day."

"He did." Narcissa wiped away a single tear that managed to escape. "We wrote it to each other every day when we were apart and when we were together..."

There was a long pause, during which Narcissa, cuddling the baby, tried to quash her devastation over his death and the knowledge she would never again hear or read those words of love from him. Ripping a page from the notebook the day he died hadn't done anything. The words had still faded away a minute later. Across from her, Septima smoked and sighed, recalling the last time she'd been to bed with him. It was last November, which now knew to be during his separation from Narcissa. He hadn't engaged in their familiar activities with the usual enthusiasm. Afterward he'd rolled onto his back, she'd lit up a cigarette, he'd taken a drag, and then she asked him, "What's her name?" He'd insisted there was no "her," but Septima hadn't believed him. She'd laughed, wished him luck, and reminded him he was not, under any circumstances, allowed to fall asleep in her bed. He'd laughed too, took one last puff of her smoke, and left, and they'd never done it together again.

"After he died, we cleaned out his chambers, Fillius and I did. We didn't think the task should be left to the house elves. I put aside a box for you." She stubbed out her cigarette and stood, stretching. She walked across the room to a bookshelf that held textbooks mostly on Arithmancy, the subject she taught, but also a few on Astronomy, Geneology, and Ancient Runes.

"In addition to Severus, I lost two of my closest longtime friends in the Battle, Professors Bathsheba Babbling and Aurora Sinistra, plus Charity Burbage last year, so while I can't know _exactly_ what you're feeling, I empathize."

On top of the bookcase was a plain brown box. Septima lifted it and moved to sit on the couch beside Narcissa. She set the box on a low table and opened it. Inside were a number of sheets of parchment and a smaller box. Septima pulled the small box out first.

"This is yours. Want me to hold the baby?"

"I… Sure." Narcissa rarely gave her up to be held by anyone else, not even her sister, but she passed Baby Snape to Septima. She opened the small box. "How did you know this was mine?"

Inside was the ornate ring Lucius had bought for her for their anniversary years ago, the one she wore on the finger one would use for a wedding ring, if one were a Muggle. She knew exactly where she'd left it – on the bookshelf in Severus' sitting room. She'd taken it off right after she'd agreed to marry him and he'd said he couldn't afford a ring.

"It has the Malfoy family motto inside: 'Santimona Vincet Semper.' Meaning 'Purity Will Always Conquer.'" Catching Narcissa's surprise, she explained, "I have done extensive research on wizarding genealogy, especially as it concerns the Sacred Twenty-eight. It's the sort of thing that fascinates fatherless witches with Squib mothers. For your peace of mind, you should know I didn't tell Fillius about it, about any of this. Minerva either. I didn't think anyone else needed to know... about you."

"Thank you." Narcissa put the ring back in the small box and peered inside the larger one. Her blue drawstring bag was there, the one she'd taken to Hogwarts the night she Splinched herself. There were also a number of photographs. She took one out, holding it gingerly, as if the frame might turn to dust in her hands.

"He didn't like having his picture taken, but I took this one at the Yule Ball a couple of years ago," said Septima. She smiled down at the baby, then gently touched the corner of the frame. "He looks happy, eh? He would've killed me if he'd known I was skulking in the shadows with my camera."

It was a black and white photograph of Severus, Minerva, Albus, Pomona, and Fillius standing in a semi-circle. Clearly Fillius had just said something unintentionally funny, because the four others were cracking up while the smaller wizard, holding up his hands and shaking his head, looked to be saying "Not like that!" Severus was in the center of the group. The corners of his dark eyes were crinkled, and he was laughing the way that the so often did when with Narcissa, but so rarely with anyone else.

"There are a couple of others that I took." These were not framed. She handed the pile to Narcissa, who flipped through as Septima narrated. "That's from his first year teaching here. We used to have to sit for staff photos, which were displayed on a large board in the main corridor over the subjects we taught. Thankfully that practice ended after Minerva took a terrible one back around '85, spent the whole year begging Dumbledore to take it down, and then refused to let herself be shot again." In this one, Severus was as most of the world knew him, brooding and unpleasant and sort of shifty. Still, it made Narcissa smile. There was also one of Severus at what looked to be a staff Christmas party, sitting on a hardbacked chair, reading a book. Dumbledore, a finger to his lips, held mistletoe over the younger man's head – Severus looked about twenty-five here – and then Pomona Sprout planted a kiss right on his cheek, causing him to jump, throwing the book. Narcissa laughed as the scene played over and over. The next was of Severus sitting at the staff table in the Great Hall. Narcissa thought he looked to be in his late twenties. He was listening to something one-armed Professor Kettleburn was saying and nodding with what appeared to be genuine interest. There was another one of him standing behind Draco, whispering in his ear during what looked to be a duel against the famous Harry Potter, who was backed by an unfamiliar wizard with a toothy grin. There was a lovely shot of Severus dancing with Minerva at the Yule Ball, holding her at more of a distance than he'd ever held Narcissa when dancing, and another of him in the crowd at a Quidditch match. He appeared to be murmuring, and then his cloak was on fire…

The last few Septima had not taken herself.

"This is him at age three, see?" said Septima. "Says it on the back."

Narcissa flipped the photograph over. Sure enough, on the back someone had scrawled, _Severus Tobias, age 3_.

"I'd never seen these before. They were locked in the bottom drawer of his desk." In the one labeled _Age 3,_ he was standing on a chair in a kitchen, stirring what looked like cake batter, while a pleasant looking elderly woman beside him cracked eggs. She was wearing an apron. Even though the photo was black and white, Narcissa knew it was a red apron. This must be his Muggle grandmother. Both Severus and his grandmother were smiling.

There were a couple more of him as a boy, labeled _Severus Tobias, age 6_ (drawing a picture with his already overlarge nose nearly touching the parchment, entirely too serious for a six-year-old) and _Severus Tobias, age 8_ (sitting alone on a swing at the playground near his home on Spinner's End, not swinging) and _Severus Tobias, age 12_ (wearing his Hogwarts uniform, holding several books, standing in front of the sign for Platform 9) but in none of these did he look terribly happy.

There were also two baby pictures, one of him as a sleeping newborn labeled _January 21_ _st_ _, 1960_ and another of him toddling on unsteady legs, sucking his index and middle fingers. Narcissa flipped it over. It was labeled _First Birthday_.

Then there was a torn photograph of Lily Evans Potter. Clearly someone else had been in it but was ripped out. James Potter, presumably.

And lastly, a picture of Narcissa…

"That one was tucked into a journal. The journal was blank, but there was something about it… I put it in the box." Narcissa felt a chill. Septima must mean the enchanted notebook. Narcissa glanced inside. Sure enough, there it was at the bottom. He'd kept a picture of her in the enchanted notebook? She didn't even know he'd had a picture of her. She studied it. It was about the size of the cover of one of his Agatha Christie books. She tried to remember where she'd last seen it.

Eyes closed, she could vaguely visualize it where it had once been, in a small gold frame on the mantle in the parlor at Malfoy Manor. When had he taken it? Was it while they were seeing each other? After they'd split up? Or before she'd initially approached him? She couldn't recall.

In this photograph, she was thirty. It was taken during the same party she'd seen in Severus' memory in the Pensieve, Draco's fifth birthday. She watched herself lean forward, fix Draco's bowtie, and send him running off to greet his friends, leaving her standing alone, smiling sort of sadly. She'd noticed Severus looking her over in the Pensieve memory from that day. He'd said he thought she was beautiful.

"Yours was the only one not locked away in the bottom drawer. You were quite pretty back then,"'said Seltima. She added hurriedly, "Not that you aren't perfectly attractive now."

"He kept my picture in his notebook," whispered Narcissa, overwhelmed. She reached in and removed a rolled up bit of parchment. "What's this?"

"I don't know," said Septima with a shrug. She gently brushed the back of her index finger against the soft hair of Severus' baby, sniffed the girl's head, and smiled. "But I have a feeling it concerns this one."

Narcissa, curiously perplexed, unrolled it. Her mouth dropped. It was the list she'd written while he was working that last week, the list containing all of the possible baby names. She'd drawn a line down the center of the parchment and scrawled boy names on one side, girl names on the other. At the bottom of the boy side, under the crossed out Perseus Black Snape, Severus had written, _Betelguese Prince Snape?_

For all of his teasing, apparently he had genuinely liked that name. Good thing, then, that they didn't have a boy. She couldn't fight back a chuckle, but at the same time the tip of her nose burned, indicating she might cry. She took a deep breath and suppressed it, turning her attention to other list.

On the girl side, which was much longer, he'd underlined some names, crossed out others, and added his own suggestion.

 _Lyra_ _Elladora Snape_

 _Agatha_ _ Elladora Snape _

_Luna Black Snape_ (crossed out)

 _Lyra Narcissa Snape_

 _Lyra Agatha_ _Black-Snape_

 _Delphini Prince Snape_ (crossed out)

 _Delphi Elladora Snape_ (crossed out)

 _Austrina Elladora Snape_

 _Austrina Prince Snape_

 _Cassiopeia Christie Snape_ (crossed out)

 _Lyra Grace Snape_

 _Agatha Grace Snape_

At the bottom, he'd written, _Agatha Lyra Snape?_

"Agatha Lyra," breathed Narcissa. She looked to the infant in the arms of the Arithmancy professor. "Agatha Lyra. That shall be her name. I was partial to Lyra, and he told me Agatha was Greek, meaning good. If that's what he wanted…" Damn it, tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. "Then that's what you shall be called." She stroked the baby's soft cheek. "Agatha Lyra."

"Agatha," said Septima. "For the author? I'd never heard of her, but I found one of her books in his sitting room and another in the back of his bottom desk drawer. They're both in the box."

"Agatha Christie, yes," confirmed Narcissa. "He – _we_ – liked her Muggle mysteries."

"I think it's a wonderful name. All that's left in there is a blue drawstring bag that must be yours and a few letters… it appears you wrote to him and he replied on the backs, I don't know…" Her voice trailed off, as she was slightly embarrassed to have inadvertenly admitted to reading them. Eagerly Narcissa reached back into the box, pulling out the parchment. These were the letters she'd sent him during the time they'd been split up, when she was supposed to be trying to be a better wife and he had slept with both Septima and Hortensia to get over her. She flipped one over. Sure enough, he'd written a response on the back, one he'd never sent.

Her letter had been short. It was the first she'd written after he'd replied to her "I miss you" with "I know, but you shouldn't."

 _Severus,_

 _It's been two weeks since you told me I shouldn't miss you._

 _I shouldn't, but I do._

 _I miss you._

 _It's killing me._

 _Write back. Visit. Tell me I'm not alone in this._

 _I want you. I want to see you._

 _I want you to miss me._

 _I want you to want me._

She hadn't signed it.

She'd been hurt at the time because he didn't reply, nor did he write back to any of her other messages sent between "...but you shouldn't" and their snog session in the hall at Malfoy Manor shortly before Christmas.

On the back of the parchment, he'd responded.

 _My Narcissa,_

 _I miss you. It's mutual._

 _You are not alone._

 _I cannot visit because I do not trust myself._

 _I want you more than could be expressed in mere words._

 _I want everything with you._

She smiled, tears welling up in her eyes, and rolled it back up. She placed it back in the box, planning to read the others later, in private.

"Thank you," she said. "You have no idea how much this means to me, these letters, the photographs."

"I have some idea," said Septima. She pointed to her the mantle over her fireplace. "I kept a few things for myself, too." On the far right was a framed photograph Septima had taken of herself and Severus perhaps a decade ago. She was laughing. He was looking at her as if she'd gone daft, but at the last moment, his ever-serious façade melted away, and he grinned. In the center of the mantle was a framed photograph of Septima Vector, Aurora Sinistra (professor of Astronomy), and Bathsheda Babbling (Ancient Runes), clinking bottles of butterbeer together in celebration. They all looked to be in their late twenties. And on the far left was a photograph of Septima with her arms wrapped around the waist of a giggling Charity Burbage, the homely Muggle Studies professor who'd been killed by Lord Voldemort himself. As they were all dressed up in this one, which looked relatively recent, Narcissa assumed it was from the 1995 Yule Ball.

"I've never really been in love," said Septima quietly, "But I loved my friends, and now they're gone. Thus, like I said, I emphathize." She sniffed Baby Snape's head again before handing her back to her mother. "I can transfigure this box down to the side of the smaller one so it fits in your pocket. Are you able to retransfigure it later, or should I have it shipped to you?"

"I can retransfigure it," said Narcissa, not wanting to leave without the contents. Once the tiny box was in her pocket, Septima walked her to the Hogwarts main entrance.

"I… um…" Narcissa bit her lip, afraid she was going to sound silly, but figuring she had nothing to lose… "I don't have many friends. Or _any_ friends. So if you wanted to… to do something... sometime… maybe… If you're not too busy… But don't feel obligated…"

"I don't drink," said Septima. "But perhaps we could meet at Rosmerta's for a butterbeer? I'm free New Year's Day."

"That would be lovely," said Narcissa, breaking into a smile. "Thank you. Happy Christmas."

An hour later, after doing a bit of last minute Christmas shopping, Narcissa and Baby Snape – Agatha Lyra – returned to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa headed straight to her room, set the baby down, flexed her tired arms (the girl seemed to be growing heavier every day) and retransfigured the box. She removed the photograph of Severus as a little boy in the kitchen and put it in the frame she'd just purchased in Hogsmeade before heading home. She set it on her bedside table between the framed picture of her niece she'd found in Bella's room and the one she'd taken of Draco and his new baby sister a few days after her birth.

For now, everything else in the box went under her bed, until she had time to go through it all slowly, reading the letters, and finding a place for each photograph. She brought Agatha Lyra down to the kitchen with her in search of food. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and was ravenous. Lucius was already there, seated at the table, picking at roast duck.

"The house elves cooked," he said, "But I didn't feel much like eating and Draco's not back yet."

"Where did he go?"

"To have Christmas Eve dinner with Astoria Greengrass and her family."

"They must be coming around on him, then."

"Seems that way." He pushed his plate away. "I'll be in the parlor."

She decided not to bother the house elves, opting instead for a dinner of cherry pie, which she'd baked the day before, and a glass of milk, which she knew it wasn't exactly the most nutritious option.

"I'll eat better tomorrow, I promise," she whispered to the sleeping newborn. Once she was done, she decided to head up to her bedroom, figuring she had a little time before her daughter's next feeding. She stopped by the parlor to say goodnight to Lucius.

He was seated in semi-darkness, scotch in hand, staring into the crackling fire in the fireplace.

"We'll have dinner together tomorrow?" she asked. "Us and Draco? It's Christmas."

"We'll have dinner together tomorrow," he confirmed emotionlessly.

"I went to see Nova today. Her name is Delphini now. I couldn't help myself. I brought her presents. She's learning to walk."

He glanced at Agatha Lyra and nodded. "They grow up so fast."

"Yes. Well. Goodnight." She kissed him platonically on the temple. He did not react. She was almost to the door when he called her back.

"Narcissa? Do you think we'll ever recover?"

"You mean as a couple or individually?"

"Both. Either."

She smiled sadly. "I honestly don't know. But we can coexist, can't we?"

"I think so. Goodnight, Narcissa."

"Goodnight, Lucius."

Once up in the nursery, she settled in the rocker and breastfed Agatha Lyra, a process that had become secondnature to her, which left her questioning why she'd ever thought it was disgusting. Probably because Mother thought so. She'd been perfectly content to let a Squib girl nurse Draco but now found herself wishing she hadn't wasted that bonding time. Though she'd done her best with her son, she was determined to do even better by her daughter.

Once Agatha Lyra had been burped, she changed both the baby and herself into sleepwear, climbed into bed, and waved her wand, calling "Accio Murder on the Orient Express!" One of the two Agatha Christie mysteries flew up from inside the box under her bed, landing in her hand.

"Agatha Lyra, your father's Muggle grandmother enjoyed this mystery author, Agatha Christie, and when she passed on her collection was sent to your father. He received it on Christmas Eve 1968 and read one that night, then he read another every Christmas Eve after that. On one of our first real dates he took me to see a play based on her work and on another, a cinema film. And during one of our last good days together, we read aloud from another of her books. I made my way through so many of them when I was pregnant, living at his home. Now I'll read one to you so we can continue his tradition." Her breath hitched in her throat and she cradled the baby closer. "He would have loved you so much, Agatha Lyra."

Narcissa placed a gentle kiss on the baby's cheek, beating back the urge to cry. She couldn't read aloud if she were crying. She took a deep breath and began. "This is called Murder on the Orient Express."

She was on the fourth page when a noise in the doorway connecting her bedroom to the nursery made her look up. Lucius was standing there, quietly listening.

"Do you need something?" she asked softly. The baby was still awake and she wasn't in the mood to argue with him.

"Don't be angry."

"I feel like starting a sentence with 'don't be angry' means you're about to tell me something that will make me angry."

"I'm seeing someone."

"Oh." Narcissa turned her attention back toward the book but did not resume reading. "What took you so long? You've been out of Azkaban nearly four months already."

"Her name is Lainie Braddock. She's on the Wizengamot. You might have noticed her during your testimony; she sat in the front row. Thirty-six, curvy, auburn hair, freckles, glasses. She's very career-minded, an intellectual."

"Doesn't sound like your type."

"She isn't."

"She was on the Wizengamot? You really can find a woman anywhere, can't you, Lucius?"

"She approached me a few weeks after the trial. At the time I'd said I wasn't interested… now, I am."

"You've slept with her?" Narcissa asked coldly, though she was certain it was even her place to care.

"Not yet."

"But you intend to?"

"I've been celibate going on ten months. That's a long time. I have needs."

Narcissa nodded as if he'd just informed her that water is wet.

"Are you planning to build a relationship with her or will she be merely a source of physical satisfaction?"

He brushed his fingers through his hair, contemplating his response. Finally, he said, "I'd rather have my wife back but you've made it clear you're not interested."

"You want me to leave?"

"No."

"You want a divorce?"

He hesitated. "…No. But I'm not going to cheat on you, hence I'm giving you notice. I intend to take her out New Years Eve. I'll return the next day. Is that a problem?"

She scoffed. "Twenty-five years of marriage and _now_ you want my permission to see other women?"

"I want to be honest with you. I don't know whether there's any hope for us or our marriage, but I am just as lonely as you are and _I have needs_."

"So you've told me."

"If you ask me not to see her, I won't."

Narcissa kissed the forehead of her daughter and breathed in the clean, powdery scent of her, buying a bit of time. She didn't like the thought of her husband going out with some curvy thirty-something intellectual ginger from the Wizengamot, but at the same time, it was hardly fair to tell him not to, since she had no intention of returning to his bed and was choosing to remain at Malfoy Manor only because it was currently the safest place for her and the baby.

"She was there for your trial; she must know you're married."

"She knows. She's married too. Unhappily. But their children are young so she doesn't want a divorce."

"I see." Narcissa glanced at the new photograph on her dresser, Severus Tobias, age 3. "Go out with her. You deserve a break."

"Thank you." He seemed genuinely relieved.

Narcissa picked up the book and continued to read, but half a page into it, Lucius again interrupted.

"Have you named her yet?"

Narcissa half-smiled. "As a matter of fact, yes, I did. Today. I've decided to call her Agatha Lyra."

"Hello, Agatha Lyra," he said. "That's a nice name."

Narcissa read for another two pages, but still Lucius did not leave, so she dog-eared her page and set the book beside her on the bed.

"Is there something else?"

"I've been thinking."

"What have you been thinking?"

"I'm not going to ask you to move back into our bedroom. Honestly, I'm not even sure I want you there at the present."

She raised her eyebrows as if to ask, "So?"

"But there's no logical reason for us to get divorced. No one in the Malfoy family has ever been divorced. And I think it's safe to say neither of us is looking to get remarried or have more children. So as long as I can accept that you're… not staying with me, and so long as you can accept that I'll not wait around for you, it's probably for everyone's benefit that we remain married and that you continue to live here. Especially while your daughter is small."

"You're afraid I might hurt her?" asked Narcissa. "I know she's only three weeks old, but I swear, I don't feel the way I did after Draco was born. I don't even feel the way I did a month ago, or two months ago. I feel… better. I'm getting better. I'm not drinking, I'm not crying all the time, I don't want to die, I'm not consumed by terrifying thoughts, I'm not even having nightmares. I think I'm too relieved. I'm glad she's here, and healthy, and… and perfect."

"She _is_ rather cute," Lucius conceded. "Despite that overlarge nose she seems to be developing. The poor mite must have inherited it from Snape."

"Sod off!" she replied, though she could tell he was teasing her. "My baby is perfect."

"Your baby needs a name," he said. This is why he'd come in here – this is the real reason he'd interrupted their reading time. She could tell by the look on his face. While he'd been honest about preparing to see another woman, this was what he truly wanted to discuss. Her expression darkened, as she wondered where this would be going.

"She has a name, Lucius. I've just told you. Her name is Agatha Lyra."

"She needs a surname. And I think… if you're going to stay here, if we're going to remain married, even if our marriage is… even if we continue to live separately, if we're going to maintain the _appearance_ of a married couple, I think you should give her my name, so all of our names are the same. And I won't lead anyone to believe… to believe otherwise."

"You think I should call her Agatha Lyra Malfoy?" Since deciding upon the girl's first and middle names earlier in the day, Narcissa had been asking herself what to select as a family name. Snape seemed a dangerous choice, considering both the number of not-yet-captured Death Eaters _and_ the continued interest in him from the rest of the Wizarding world, as evidenced by Minerva McGonagall's revelation regarding the influx of nosy gossips and reporters wishing to see his portrait. This left her down to choosing between Prince, his mother's maiden name, or Black, her own maiden name, same as Bella had given Nova. She hadn't even considered Malfoy, figuring if they remained married it would be only to avoid the difficulties of a divorce, and not because they felt any sort of love or loyalty toward each other anymore. Though she wasn't keen on the idea of him dating, she also couldn't imagine ever again wanting him the way she did Severus.

"You can think about it," he said with an awkward, almost apologetic shrug. "You don't have to decide now. I just wanted you to know… If you wanted to… For the sake of appearances…"

"Thank you," she said. "I'll consider it."

"What are you doing?" Draco came up behind his father in the doorway. He squeezed past Lucius and went to his mother's side, leaning down to kiss the baby hello.

"I'm reading to your sister. I've given her a name. Agatha Lyra. Lyra is a constellation near Draco. I thought it was pretty."

"Lyra is pretty," said Draco. He made a face. "I don't fancy _Agatha_."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing it's her name and not yours," joked Lucius. Draco shot his father a deadpan look that showed how unamusing he found the quip. Narcissa chuckled.

"How was your night, darling?" she asked.

"Great! Astoria's family seems to be coming around. They said I can take her out for New Years but I need to have her home by half-past midnight and not a second later. I'm not sure where we'll go. Maybe Dovelings. Not a kid place. We're not kids."

"You're _my_ kid," said Narcissa. She cleared her throat and re-opened the Agatha Christie mystery.

"We were just about to read Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. Would you like to listen? I'll start over from page one."

"Sure." Draco sat at the foot of the bed, his back against the wall. "I've never heard of it. Is that where the baby's name comes from?"

"Severus used to read one of Agatha Christie's mystery novels every Christmas Eve," Lucius informed his son. "They were a gift from his Muggle grandmother."

Narcissa looked to him with surprise. Had he overheard her telling this to the baby or did he know of his friend's holiday tradition? Answering the question without needing it asked, Lucius said, "We were friends, remember? We talked about things. Mind if I listen?" On her nod, Lucius Summoned in the rocking chair and sat down.

Baby Snape, now called Agatha Lyra, sighed contentedly against her mother's chest, listening to the familiar rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat. Her belly was full, her eyelids were drooping, and though she was only three weeks old, she was a happy baby, having never known sadness, loss, or pain. She couldn't understand the words her mother spoke, but she was already comforted by the sound of her voice.

Narcissa took a breath and began to read.

"It was five o'clock on a winter's morning in Syria…"


	51. Dec 1998 - July 2021

**Epilogue: December 1998 - July 2021**

* * *

 **1998-2000**

On December 31st, 1998, Narcissa met Septima Vector at the Three Broomsticks at four in the afternoon with the intention of celebrating New Years Eve. They got together early because there was no one to sit for 27 day old Agatha Lyra, thus Narcissa had the baby in tow, figuring they'd chat for an hour or two before parting ways.

To Narcissa's surprise, however, Septima was both extremely easy to talk to and funny as hell. The professor also enjoyed having a captive audience. An hour gave way to two and then three, and then it was time to nurse Agatha Lyra, but as they did not wish to part yet, the women headed back to Hogwarts.

Septima ordered up dinner from the house elves while Narcissa breastfed the baby. Since Septima didn't drink, her chambers contained not a drop of alcohol, which was probably good as Narcissa had envisioned herself spending the night at home getting completely pissed for the first time since she showed up in Severus' bedroom unconscious back in April. This was, after all, the first anniversary of their first real date, and though she was doing better in general, her sense of foreboding had grown exponentially each day since Christmas in anticipation of this should-have-been milestone.

She'd expressed this to Septima, who admitted she wasn't looking forward to spending the night alone either, on account of her annual tradition of ringing in the New Year with Aurora, Bathsheda, and Charity, "engaging in questionable activities of which Minerva would not approve." She refused to elaborate, which of course only made Narcissa only the more curious.

One year later, and twelve months into a blossoming friendship with Septima, Narcissa left her daughter with Andromeda overnight, met Septima in a rented room above the Hog's Head Pub, and learned what "questionable activities" meant.

"What is it?" asked Narcissa, wrinkling her nose as Septima placed what looked like dry, crushed leaves on a bed of thin white paper, rolled it, and lit one end.

"Elven herb. Highly illegal but so, so worth the risk." Septima took a long drag and passed it to her friend.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Narcissa asked. Septima arched her brow as if it should be obvious.

"Genius, you smoke it."

"I don't think I can do that."

Septima snickered. "Trust me, you can. Smoke it now and thank me later."

A couple of hours and a considerable amount of junk food later, after thanking her friend several dozen times, Narcissa returned to Malfoy Manor. She was barely able to walk in a straight line, giggling madly, and completely caught up in the sensation of shaking snow from her hair as if she'd never seen the powdery wet white stuff before. She stumbled over her own feet and bumped into a tall table. The gold bust of Abraxas Malfoy atop it clamored to the floor, but thankfully did not break. Lucius was seated in the kitchen, after just having returned home from a semi-disastrous date with a new woman, and heard the commotion.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, flicking his wand to make the hall lights illuminate the entryway. "It's after two in the morning. Are you pissed? I thought Septima didn't drink? What the hell have you been up to?"

"I… have not… been drinking," she said carefully, fighting back laughter. She did her best to stand up straight, one hand on her hip, regarding him as solemnly as she could manage, but it wasn't easy, as the outline of his body was rather… fuzzy. She tried again to answer his questions. "I have not been drinking. I… I have been… _not_ drinking. I have… been… I have… I… I forgot the question."

"Bloody hell," he said, taking stock of her red-rimmed eyes and crinkling his nose as a vaguely familiar scent he recalled from his much younger days permeated the air. "Have you been smoking elven herbs?"

"No! Perhaps. I'm not sure. Define smoking." Choking back a hearty guffaw, she added, "Oh, wait, you said elven herbs? Smoking? Smoking elven herbs?" She sniggered. "Yes. Yes, I have."

He looked her over with an expression of scolding and disbelief.

"Septima Vector took you out and got you high?"

"No!" Narcissa pointed a finger at him, trying to seem serious. "That. Is. Ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?"

"Yes. We stayed _in_ and she got me high."

"I can't bloody believe this," he said, returning the bust of his father to its stand. "You're in your fucking forties and you're out getting high with your friend."

"It was lovely," she said, wiping melting snow from her semi-glazed eyes. "You should try it. You'd be less tense."

"For fuck's sake, Narcissa." He rolled his eyes, not amused. "Go to bed."

Though Narcissa plainly wouldn't have minded making the inhalation of illegal elven herbs a regular thing, thus replacing her twenty plus years of alcohol consumption with a brand new and presumably less destructive habit, Septima insisted they keep it to once per year. The rest of the time they got together, they stuck to butterbeer (and, for Septima, cigarettes).

Meanwhile, Lucius found himself again. Slowly but surely he was morphing back into the arrogant, confident, status-seeking handsome man he had been before Azkaban. Though the Malfoys no longer threw lavish parties in their drawing room to show off for the best of the Wizarding world, he did start attending high society functions, throwing his gold around at the Ministry, and even managed to get reelected to the Hogwarts Board of Governors in late 2000.

He and Narcissa regarded each other with civility and though it bothered him that she had yet to give Agatha Lyra a last name, he treated the girl as if she were his own.

But she wasn't.

And now that she was talking, it was becoming uncomfortable.

Narcissa couldn't help but continue to tell her ways she was like her daddy, or things he would have loved about her, and on a daily basis she showed Agatha Lyra his pictures, both as an adult and as a little boy. When the twenty-month-old asked, "Daddy where go?" she had tried to come up with a toddler-appropriate way to say, "He died."

But as the year 2000 wore on, the girl spent her days listening to Draco call Lucius "Father," and for lack of anything better to title him, she soon began calling him Father too. This, Narcissa suspected, bothered Lucius almost as much as it did her but not quite for the same reason.

"Hi Fava!" the girl said cheerily one November morning, waving at Lucius from her high chair as he sat down at the table for breakfast.

"Good morning, Agatha Lyra," he responded pleasantly. In a less jovial tone he added, "Morning, Narcissa."

"I think we need for her to call you something else," she responded, watching the now-distracted toddler try to lick pancake syrup off her arm. "You're not her father."

"No, really?" he asked sarcastically. He snapped his fingers and a plate of hot, buttered pancakes appeared before him. "I would have liked to have been, but my wife informed me shortly before her conception that she was absolutely disinterested in producing more children, thus I had this rather inconvenient operation…"

"I wish you'd quit having this same old fight," said Draco, entering the dining room with a sigh. As it had been years since the Dark Lord's demise, they'd returned to eating house elf prepared meals in there rather than cooking for themselves in the kitchen, though Narcissa still liked to bake. "If you can set it aside a moment, I need you to know that Astoria is hiding upstairs in my bedroom at the moment, afraid if she joins us for breakfast you'll realize she slept here."

"She slept here?" exclaimed Narcissa incredulously.

"It's not the first time," Lucius informed her. "Let her know we are aware, we do not disapprove, and will not comment on it."

"Thanks, Father." Draco glanced toward his mother, sensing that she did not share his father's casual attitude toward this. "Please don't embarrass me." He hurried out.

"She _slept here?"_ Narcissa asked again once his footsteps had faded. _"Not for the first time?"_

"He's twenty years old, Narcissa. She's eighteen. They're both adults, they're done with school. What they do is their business."

"I don't care how old they are, Lucius. They're not married; they shouldn't be sleeping together."

"Right," he said, hiding a smile. "They should wait until marriage, like we did."

She flipped him off.

"Sticky!" announced Agatha Lyra triumphantly, holding up her syrup-soaked hands. The cut up pieces of her pancake were mostly all over the floor, save for the one chunk stuck to her forehead.

"If Agatha doesn't call me Father," said Lucius as he used Aquamenti to wet a cloth for her sticky hands. "Won't Astoria find that awfully odd?"

"Fine," said Narcissa, poking at her own pancakes with her fork. "But when Draco's girlfriend's not here, I will continue to refer to Severus as her daddy." (She'd long ago switched from Father to Daddy when talking about him to the baby, as it seemed much less formal and more natural, especially at this age).

"Oh, good," Lucius replied as he picked the pancake off her head and washed that spot too. "Have her call me Father but him Daddy. That won't confuse the poor child at all."

"You don't care about her comprehension of the situation, you care about appearances," snapped Narcissa. "You don't mind if she calls you Lucius when it's just us, but with Astoria here, or like last week when you had guests from the Ministry, you need her to call you Father so that nobody knows the truth."

"Do you want them to know the truth, Narcissa? Astoria? Her family? The Ministry? Do you want the whole bloody Wizarding world to know the famous halfblood hero who played the Dark Lord fathered your daughter? You want them hounding us for information? You want all of our pictures plastered across the gossip columns? You want her to go to Hogwarts with that hanging over her head? Is that what you want?" He paused. She did not answer. "Well?"

"No," Narcissa said finally. She pushed her plate away, having lost her appetite. "No, I suppose I don't."

By her second birthday, Agatha Lyra considered Lucius as much her father as Draco did. As far as she could tell, he didn't treat her any differently, and as she'd never known anything else, she did not find it at all odd that her parents slept in separate bedrooms. She was a perfectly content, well-adjusted toddler with a big brother and two parents and no reason to wonder why there were photographs of the man who died, the man called Daddy, on a shelf over her crib watching over her.

Every night, before bed, Narcissa would hold her daughter in the rocker and tell her stories of her deceased daddy from the pictures, stories she said were a special secret, only for Agatha and her mother to share, too special for anyone else's ears.

"He loved you so very much," Narcissa would whisper as the toddler drifted off the sleep. "He loved you long before you were born."

* * *

 **2001-2003**

On June 5th, 2001, Draco turned twenty-one. As it had been a long time since they'd invited people to Malfoy Manor for the purpose of a social event, Narcissa wasn't certain she wanted to throw a party, but that's what Draco wanted – he insisted.

For her own piece of mind (and, frankly, so she'd have someone to talk to during the affair) Narcissa invited both her sister Andromeda and Septima Vector. The latter had been previously named Agatha Lyra's godmother. Andromeda politely refused the invitation on the grounds that she could barely stomach being around Lucius, never mind being surrounded by former pureblood supremacists and phony Ministry types, but Septima promised she'd come.

The crowd was not huge. In addition to the Malfoys and Septima, it consisted of Draco's old school chums Theodore Nott (with his wife), Blaise Zabini (with his girlfriend) and Gregory Goyle (with his parents), plus Astoria's parents, sister, and best friend, a handful of Lucius' Ministry connections, and recently divorced Wizengamot member Winifred Chen Addams, who, Narcissa suspected, was her husband's latest side piece.

At eight pm, which was after Agatha Lyra's usual bedtime, they were preparing to cut the cake when Draco said he needed to say something.

And he surprised the crowd, in particular his mother, by dropping to one knee and proposing to Astoria in the center of the drawing room under the ornate chandelier.

Astoria said yes, of course, and they kissed and she cried and Narcissa felt a bit sick to her stomach over the prospect of being the mother of a married man rather than the little boy she sometimes liked to pretend Draco still was. But the sleepy toddler cuddled in her arms reminded her that she still had one sweet baby to dote on, and perhaps this union would also bring grandchildren… which wouldn't be so bad.

One year and two months later, Draco and Astoria married on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The crowd was a bit bigger than it had been for his birthday, though all those present at that time attended the wedding as well. Andromeda even set aside her unwavering dislike for Lucius and his crowd to make an appearance, with four-year-old Teddy as her well-dressed date. He and Agatha Lyra played together, joined by Theodore Nott's four-year-old, Melody, and Vincent Crabbe Jr.'s six-year-old sister, Veronica (Draco, still missing his friend, had invited Crabbe's parents to the ceremony). The children spent the afternoon giggling, picking flowers, and chasing peacocks. It was nice for Narcissa to see her daughter, who rarely spent time with other children, turning into a comfortable social butterfly, something she had obviously not inherited from either of her parents.

On February 4th, 2003, Narcissa and Lucius made the unspoken agreement not to acknowledge their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

* * *

 **2004-2006**

Though he was at times standoffish or even cold, five-year-old Agatha Lyra took to the man she called Father, often sitting beside him on the couch sipping pumpkin juice while he enjoyed his nightly scotch, regularly accompanying him on trips to the Ministry, and frequently inviting him to her pretend tea parties, for which he always wore his best dress robes and let her borrow his signet ring.

She also adored her big brother, who would sometimes bring her out on dinner dates with him and his new wife to fancy restaurants where she had to be on her best behavior. He would let her order whatever she wished and didn't even make her finish her meal to get dessert. He and Astoria lives upstairs on the third floor opposite the library and after they got a cat they offered to let her kitty-sit for it on occasion, paying her a few sickles for her troubles, which she mostly spent on Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice.

But as much as she adored her father and brother, Agatha Lyra's favorite person in the whole entire world was her mother. She followed Narcissa everywhere, copying her movements, wearing miniature versions of her dresses, and trying her best to present herself with the same dignified and snobbish air her mother put out whenever they were in public. She wanted to act like her mother, talk like her mother, bake like her mother… if only she could _look_ like her mother.

"She resembles my sisters," Narcissa would tell anyone who asked. And _a_ _lot_ of people asked. Nosy witches in the shops. Nosy wizards on the streets. It was not uncommon for them to comment on how adorable it was that she was dressed like her mother, but how unfortunate it was that the resemblance stopped there.

Agatha Lyra had seen pictures of her mother's sister Bellatrix, with her heavy-lidded eyes and wild hair, and thought Aunt Andromeda looked like a tamer version of her, but she did not think she looked a bit like either of them, save for sharing their brown eyes and dark hair.

Hers was stick-straight and oily, she didn't have her mother's button nose, and she was pale, but not in the beautiful way Narcissa was pale.

At only five years old, this bothered her.

Adults must not have thought she was paying attention, or perhaps they didn't think she was smart enough to catch their meaning, when they'd say things like, "Pity she didn't inherit your hair," or "Where could she have gotten that nose?" or, the absolute worst, "I'm sure she's beautiful on the inside," which would make Narcissa narrow her eyes and hurry the child away, assuring Agatha she was indeed the best, brightest, and most beautiful.

This hit a new low on the first day of kindergarten. Agatha Lyra attended a small private school with children from other prominent wizarding families, including Melody Nott. On the very first day, a lovely looking amber-eyed girl with blonde pigtails turned to her and innocently inquired, "Was that your mum who dropped you off? How come you're ugly and she's not?"

"I look like my daddy," said Agatha Lyra, meaning the man in the photographs around her bedroom, the man Narcissa had always told her was their secret. She hadn't meant to reveal their secret, but she'd noticed only the day before how closely resembled him in the photograph labeled _Severus Tobias, age 6_ , and she took solace in this. If he had been special despite greasy black hair and an overlarge nose and impossibly dark eyes, perhaps she was too.

"Don't be stupid," said Melody Nott, who'd just joined them. "Your father is Lucius Malfoy. You don't look like him either. That's why my mother says she thinks your parents aren't even your parents. She says she thinks you're the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange and the Dark Lord. That's why you look funny and have a different last name."

Agatha Lyra's eyes narrowed the way her mother's so often did. She pointed a bony finger at Melody as she glared at her. "You'll be sorry," she said, and immediately Melody developed large puss-filled boils across her face, which sent the other girl running and screaming.

Agatha was severely punished by the teacher for this even though she was six years away from learning to control her magic, and she'd spent the rest of the day in tears.

Upon hearing of the exchange, Narcissa decided to homeschool her daughter. They also had a talk about what "secret" means and how she should never, ever tell anyone about the daddy who died, the one from the photographs, the man who enjoyed Muggle theatre and mystery novels.

"That's only for us," Narcissa said, snuggling her. "No one else needs to know."

The next morning, Narcissa went down to the Ministry and had her daughter's name legally changed from Agatha Lyra Prince Black to Agatha Lyra Prince Malfoy, explaining to the cleric that she and her husband were no longer estranged.

It was a lie, of course, but it seemed safer that way.

When she told him what she'd done and why, he'd nodded and said, "Very well."

That night Agatha begged for him to read her bedtime story. It was the first time she'd done so. Though she didn't need to, Narcissa eavesdropped through the slightly ajar bedroom door. As soon as he'd closed the book, Agatha began peppering him with questions.

"If he's my dad and you're my father, is Mummy my mother?" She looked up at him with tears in her panicked eyes. "Melody Nott says her mum says I'm really the daughter of aunt Bella and the Dark Lord."

He'd sighed, pulled her onto his lap, and given her a reassuring squeeze. "Do not listen to that imbecile Melody Nott. You are not the daughter of your aunt Bella and the Dark Lord. You were born months after they were both killed."

"Was that when my daddy died?"

"Yes. Your… um…" Lucius cleared his throat. In the hall, Narcissa twirled her hair, barely able to breathe, wondering how he would address this. "Your daddy, he created you. He and your mum. That's how… babies… they… er…" He certainly did not intend to give her the 'where babies come from' talk, thus he changed directions. "Your mum and your daddy loved each other, but he died, which is why he isn't here to see you grow up. He would have liked to, though. He would have been happy to know you. And you look like him. But I am Draco's daddy, and I am married to your mum, which makes me your… stepfather." The word made Narcissa shudder and she had a feeling it bothered Lucius too. He cleared his throat again. "I am not your daddy Agatha, but I have chosen to be your father. And the reason we don't tell anyone this is… your dad is very famous. Most of the Wizarding world regards him as a hero. They celebrate him. If they knew about you, they would want to celebrate you, too. But we think that's too much attention for a little girl. We don't want reporters following you around Hogsmeade or printing pictures of you in the Prophet, or telling lies about you, like the lies Melody Nott's mother told her. We want to keep you safe from all that. So you mustn't speak of him outside this room, understand? Outside this room, you are my daughter and I am your father."

"But inside this room?" she asked, trying to wrap her bright but still very young brain around this complicated concept.

"Inside this room, you and your mum are free to talk about your…" He sighed again. "Your daddy."

When Narcissa came in shortly thereafter to kiss her goodnight, Agatha asked to hear again the plot of of the murder mystery play her daddy had taken her mother to one New Years Eve. That night, Narcissa had difficulty sleeping.

The next morning, she surprised her husband by crawling into bed with him.

He was naked save for a pair of cotton undershorts. She was wearing a silk slip and nothing more. He was asleep, but she woke him by running her hand up the smooth, hard expanse of his abs to his chest, her palm coming to rest between his pecs, her fingers tickling over the platinum blonde and white hair that grew there.

"Narcissa?" he murmured, only half opening his eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Or am I merely dreaming again?"

"I appreciate it. What you told her," she said. "I informed the Ministry that we're no longer estranged… perhaps I ought to make good on my word."

She kissed his shoulder. Her hand slid down to rub his length through his shorts. She found him already hard. He groaned. His cock had awoken more quickly than he had.

"I want to thank you," she said quietly, apprehensively.

"Fuck." He grabbed her arse, flipped her onto her back, and positioned himself on top of her. She could feel his arousal pressing into her abdomen. She felt a flutter of both fear and anticipation. It had been a long, long time. She ran her hands up his back to his shoulders, ever-so-slightly digging in with her nails, and parted her legs. She made it clear that she was willing to let him do as he wished, though the words _"You never owe anybody sex, Narcissa,"_ flashed across her brain.

"It's been six years since you last let me do this," Lucius said, grinding his pelvis against hers before divesting himself of the shorts. He subsequently removed her slip, brought his hand up to squeeze her breast, and began sucking at her neck. "I'm not going to last."

He fucked as he never had before, hard and fast, with one hand pressed against her throat and the other behind her knee, holding her so tightly she wouldn't be surprised to find bruises later. She closed her eyes as he panted into her hair for about three minutes, which felt to her like three hours, and then, when he was spent, he flopped onto his back, making no attempt to hold her. This, she appreciated. They had managed the entire encounter without once kissing on the mouth, which, like post-coital cuddling, seemed too intimate an act for two people who, in many ways, hardly knew each other.

While he was in the shower it occurred to her that this was what it should have felt like with Severus. A non-emotional affair. Just sex. No romance, no attachments.

This confirmed for her what she'd confessed to Septima during their first conversation. That, for her anyway, it had never truly been non-emotional with Snape.

She redressed and returned to her own bedroom. She checked on her daughter in the adjoining room. The girl was still asleep. She locked the door to the loo and let herself into the shower… the shower where she'd once made love with Severus… the day he'd ended up confessing he'd fallen in love with her… and, with the running water on full blast to cover the sound and wash away her tears, she sobbed. She sobbed as she hadn't in years. She dropped to her knees, letting the water beat down on her back, leaned forward, and let her tears drip from her face to the tiled shower floor. She felt dirty, depressed, and, perhaps worst of all, sexually sated.

Over the next six months they fucked each other, typically with unnecessary roughness and without words of affection, perhaps two dozen more times. Still, they refrained from kissing, cuddling, or falling asleep together. Honestly, Narcissa viewed these shag sessions more like a source of self-inflicted punishment than pleasure, but her friend thought she was looking at matters all wrong.

"That's how sex should be," Septima told her one afternoon over tea. "Get what you need and get out, that's what I always say. Besides, you can't keep making love to the memory of Severus for the rest of your life."

"Can't I?" Narcissa had asked. She was being sardonic, but in truth, she orgasmed far better when she was alone, thinking of Severus, remembering times they'd shared and imagining times they could have, than when she was engaged in physical acts with her husband.

Septima let out a puff a smoke and regarded Narcissa with disappointment. "It's just sex, dear. It doesn't have to feel good in your heart; the rest of your body deserves a little attention too. Related note, did I tell you I've found a new man? He forty-six and huge."

"Oh," said Narcissa, setting down her cup and saucer, thinking Septima was all wrong about sex and love. She was, however, grateful for the subject change. "I wasn't aware that you were attracted to overweight men."

(Most of those Septima took to bed were fit, though she wasn't a fan of the overly muscular.)

"I didn't say he was overweight, Narcissa," she said with an expression of amused bemusement. She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I said he was _huge_."

"Oh? Oh!" Finally, Narcissa understood. She snickered. "Oh. Well… that's nice, then."

Around late March, 2005, shortly after the birth of their grandson, Narcissa finally agreed to move permanently back into the master bedroom with her husband after a full seven years of separation. He promised not to continue seeing other women, and in exchange, she promised not to speak to him ever again about her unwavering love of Severus Snape.

Slowly they settled into a routine that probably greatly resembled that of other couples who'd been together for thirty-five years, at least on the surface. That said, though they resumed regular lovemaking, they still did not kiss on the mouth or hold each other, not before, during, or after sex, nor at any other time, and any sort of intimacy was entirely confined to the bedroom. The only plus was that Lucius seemed to have less respect for his wife since the affair, and she had gotten over many of her old fears thanks to Severus, which meant their sex life was actually greatly improved over what it had been a decade before, despite the lack of emotional connection. Or, perhaps, because of it.

Months later, for Agatha's seventh birthday, Septima Vector gifted her only godchild a professional style potions kit, "just to see how she does with it."

It was a hit. From the first time Agatha Lyra used the kit, she excelled. She became obsessed with brewing. She begged for her own little pewter cauldron and it wasn't long before she was straying from the directions in the Kid Wizards Guide to Elementary Brewing handbook to potions of her own creation. Sometimes Narcissa helped her with her concoctions, which was good, and once Lucius did, which was… not good. He added the ingredients in the wrong order and caused an explosion, sending almost eight-year-old Agatha into an uncharacteristic temper tantrum.

"How could you be so stupid?! How could _I_ have been so stupid?! I should have just done it myself!" she'd screamed, surprising him. She was usually a well-mannered, docile girl, but she had no patience for failure… especially her own. "I hate you!"

Lucius had been greatly hurt by this, and that night in bed, to make it up to him, Narcissa wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder and let him hold her, as he'd been itching to do since they'd officially reconciled.

A few days after that disaster, Narcissa and Lucius stood together in the doorway of what used to be the Drawing Room, watching Agatha Lyra add, stir, and jot down notes, quietly and seriously, with no patience for interruption. She bent so low to the parchment when writing she got ink on her nose, but once the concoction was complete, she celebrated.

"Try it, Mummy! It will return your hair to its natural color!"

Narcissa drank down a dosage and was pleasantly surprised moments later when her silver-streaked hair lost its gray.

"Wow!" Lucius had responded, looking her over approvingly. "You're as blonde as you were the day I married you!" He placed his hand on Narcissa's hip, pulling her toward him, but she slipped out of his grasp and picked up her daughter instead, hugging her. She had consented to a night of cuddling, yes, but she certainly wasn't ready for casual embraces outside the bedroom.

"Now you don't need Muggle dyes!" exclaimed Agatha, but what she was really thinking was if this could work to make her mother blonde again, perhaps her next modification to the potion could make her blonde too, so they'd look the same. "Mummy, are you proud of me?"

"I'm always proud of you!" Narcissa had assured her. "You're my darling girl."

Later that night, Lucius turned to Narcissa in bed and tucked her long, blonde hair behind her ear.

"Did you see the way she looked when she was concentrating? She had ink smudged all over her nose. She's more intense than other children. Smarter, too. Determined."

"I noticed," said Narcissa, smiling. "She's very bright."

He nodded. "Sometimes she reminds me so much of him."

"It's her hair," said Narcissa quickly. "And her eyes."

"No," he said. "It's that intelligence, and her intensity, her quest for perfection, her natural aptitude for the subject… and the face she makes when she's concentrating. She inherited all that from him. It… it made me miss him."

Tears welled up in her eyes at this confession, as she was reminded that Lucius had lost his closest friend, and was tasked with watching the man's daughter grow up before him, just as she carried the pain of constantly comparing her daughter to the man with whom she was so in love, and unable to express her grief to anyone save for Septima.

"We'll have to tell her the truth someday," said Lucius. He wiped away Narcissa's lone escaped tear with his thumb. "About who he was. What happened. And… and why…"

"I know," whispered Narcissa, cutting him off. "I only hope she won't hate me."

"Why would she hate you?" he asked. He leaned forward, stopping when his lips were just a breath away from hers. "How could anyone hate you?"

She closed her eyes then closed the gap, letting him kiss her lips for the first time since March of 1998, nearly nine years ago.

But after they were both sexually satisfied, exhausted and sticky from sweat, when he wrapped his arms around her and told her he loved her, she couldn't bear to say it back.

* * *

 **2007-2009**

In March, 2007, the Malfoys celebrated their grandson's first birthday with a family gathering at Malfoy Manor, which was pleasant but small on account of how weak having had a baby made Astoria.

She was suffering the effects of a curse placed on her family long ago, and though both she and Draco knew having a child was a risk, she'd been unrelenting in her desire to try. He'd spent the first couple of years of their marriage insisting that it was unnecessary, that the Malfoys did not need an heir (to which his father heartily disagreed) but in the end he let it be Astoria's choice, and her choice was to become a mother.

The baby boy was beautiful and charming. He looked as much like his father as Agatha Lyra looked like hers, with his gray eyes, pointed chin, and white-blond hair.

Over the next couple of years, the younger Malfoys hid themselves away, and much to the chagrin of Narcissa and Lucius, this caused a building of rumors concerning the child, with some even going so far as to say he was somehow the heir of the Dark Lord, an accusation Agatha had previously faced, but one that was much more ridiculous considering the amount of time that had passed between the Dark Lord's fall and the birth of Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy.

These rumors did more than merely bother Scorpius' parents and grandparents, they renewed in Narcissa a desire to check on her niece, who was still being raised by Euphemia Rowle, far, far away from Hogwarts and the world she'd been born into. It had been years since Narcissa had seen her, though she'd continued to anonymously send Christmas and birthday presents, but one day she expressed to Andromeda that she was thinking by stopping by the Rowle home under the guise of wanting to catch up with an old friend.

"You'd be an idiot to do it," said Andromeda, glad Teddy was at Hogwarts and therefore wouldn't overhear this dangerous conversation.

Andromeda was proud of the job she'd done, as both his grandmother and a single parent. The boy had grown up happily, more exposed to the rest of the world than Nova/Delphini or even Agatha Lyra, especially as he was the godson of the famous Harry Potter. Harry would take him to professional Quidditch matches and to hang around the Ministry where he worked as an Auror, and show him off as the son of a couple of fellow war heroes, which, Andromeda suspected, might have slightly gone to his head. He'd been Sorted into Hufflepuff like his mother, and was adjusting to school rather well, as far as she could tell from his letters.

"So you're saying I should not check on her?" asked Narcissa. "You know, she's the age for Hogwarts too. She's eleven, same as Teddy. But Septima assures me she's not there. I know we originally said we wanted her to stay far, far away from the Wizarding world, but it's been over a decade. Surely there's no reason not to educate the girl."

"Maybe Euphemia sent her someplace else, or homeschools her as you do Agatha. Don't worry about it. It's not your business. And I repeat, you would have to be a bloody idiot to go over there."

"Fine, fine, I won't," Narcissa had sighed.

Three days later, on a blustery November morning, with her sister's words reverberating around her head, Narcissa threw caution to the wind and showed up beyond the wards of Euphemia Rowle's home unannounced, wondering what her reception would be.

She walked toward the home, which was large and ostentatious but had begun falling into disrepair over the years. She spotted her niece before she'd even reached the pathway leading up to the front door. The girl was staring out from one of the upstairs windows, looking so heartbreakingly forlorn and lonesome it stopped Narcissa like a punch to the gut. She was, not for the first time since making the decision to give up the child, overcome with guilt and pain, and with the strong desire to rush in and rescue the girl.

They made eye contact. Delphini's eyes, the eyes that were as dark and mysterious as Bella's, widened with surprise and perhaps a twinge of fear. She clearly did not recognize her aunt Narcissa, who waved up at her. Rather than wave back, the girl backed fearfully away from the window, snapped shut the shade, and disappeared from view.

Again hearing Andromeda's voice in her head calling her an idiot, Narcissa's resolve faltered, and she disapparated.

That evening, Narcissa returned to Malfoy Manor and got completely, totally, and irresponsibly drunk for the first time in a long, long time.

A month later, Agatha Lyra celebrated her eleventh birthday.

As a gift, Narcissa took her to see her first Muggle murder mystery play.

And Then There Were None, by Agatha Christie.

* * *

 **2010-2013**

 _Dear Mum,_

 _Thank you for giving me this enchanted notebook. Now I don't have to wait for a slow Owl to deliver to you the dramatic news of my Sorting._

 _Let me set the stage for you, shall I?_

 _Setting: Interior, Great Hall, Hogwarts. Candles float below a ceiling enchanted to look like the night sky. Four long tables span the room, at which sit students ages twelve and older, all eagerly awaiting seeing who will be joining them next in their respective Houses._

 _In the front of the room, approximately forty scared students stand wearing black robes over gray and white uniforms, some twiddling their thumbs, others biting their nails, all sick with anticipation._

 _I was the twenty-seventh student to be brought up. Professor Flitwick called my name._

 _"Agatha Lyra Prince Malfoy."_

 _A snooty looking blonde with unrealistically thin eyebrows was standing beside me. She'd been in my same compartment on the train, too. When I started to push forward upon hearing my name she said, "Is that you? That's a long name." She said it with disdain._

 _So naturally I replied, "Better to have a long name than to have a long, dark hair growing out of my nose."_

 _She immediately clapped her hands over her face in horror, which put me in a good mood as I approached the Sorting Hat. It may be worth mentioning the nose hair was a fabrication. I've read enough to know that girls like her are entirely consumed with appearance and therefore would be sufficiently bothered by such a comment._

 _Ha._

 _But my giddiness was short-lived._

 _Know why?_

 _I shall tell you why._

 _I have been Sorted…_

 _Into Ravenclaw._

 _That's right. Ravenclaw._

 _RAVENCLAW._

 _You know, the one with the blue and the eagle and the Founder's tragic backstory?_

 _I realize it's been a long time since you were a student, which means you might not remember, but let me be clear…_

 _RAVENCLAW IS NOT SLYTHERIN._

 _I ASKED to be sorted into Slytherin. The stupid Sorting Hat said, "No. You have ambition but lack cunning. Your intelligence, love of learning, and dry humor will serve you well in Ravenclaw, where dwell those with wit and wisdom."_

 _It's not fair, Mum. I don't want to be in Ravenclaw. I want to be in Slytherin, like you. Like Draco. Like Father._

 _Like my dad._

 _Also I know you told me to try and make friends on the train but everyone already seemed to have friends so I sat alone, reading, until that snooty girl came in. You should have SEEN her. She was tall and blonde with perfect teeth and perfect skin. She can't be completely human. She looked like one of the actresses in those old Muggle movies we like to see. Then cousin Teddy came in and said hello, noticed her, lost his ability to speak, and rushed out like an imbecile, tripping over his own feet. I saw him later, during dinner, because the Ravenclaw table is by the Hufflepuff table and I told him what a git he'd been but I don't think he heard me because she was nearby and he was preoccupied by staring at her while salivating. Gross._

 _The only good moments today were seeing Hogwarts from a distance for the first time – it's really quite impressive, like you said – and being greeted by Septima, though now I suppose I ought to call her Professor Vector, even though she's my Godmother and that seems strange. She saw me in the hall before the Sorting and said she hopes I'll be taking Arithmancy Third year. I didn't have the heart to tell her I don't think I'll last through Third year because I'll be leaping from the Astronomy Tower the moment I have the opportunity._

 _I should have gone to Durmstrang, like that emaciated cow Melody Nott. I don't know a single other student here, save for Drooly Git Teddy and Perfect Eyebrows Blondie. I will never make friends. Everyone is going to hate me._

 _My life is horrible._

 _Love,_

 _Lyra_

 _-0-0-0-_

 _My dearest Agatha,_

 _Chin up. You will do well in Ravenclaw, but I understand why you're upset. I haven't confessed this to many people, and your dad made fun of me when I admitted it to him, but the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Hufflepuff. I was devastated. I begged to be in Slytherin with your aunts Andromeda and Bella. I even said I'd kill for it, and the Hat relented… but you know what? I wouldn't have killed for it. And it wouldn't have killed me to be in Hufflepuff. Just as it won't kill you to be in Ravenclaw. You'll excel among your peers – you're brilliant and the Hat could see that. As for your father, your real father, Ravenclaw was also a consideration for him, but the Hat ultimately chose Slytherin, and I've often wondered whether that was a mistake._

 _Perhaps when cousin Teddy is through mopping up his drool he can introduce you to some of his Second year friends, though I'd rather you get to know those in your own House._

 _Oh, and try not to hate Perfect Eyebrows Blondie so much, dear. At that age, I was a blonde with perfect eyebrows, and many of my peers unfairly labeled me a snob before they'd even met me. I'd hate for you to do the same to her._

 _I also hope you will take Arithmancy Third year. You're a brilliant girl and it would be a great way to challenge yourself. When you see Septima again – excuse me, Professor Vector – tell her I said hello. (It may serve you well to remember that she was in Ravenclaw too.)_

 _All that out of the way…_

 _DO NOT EVEN JOKE __about jumping off the Astronomy Tower. If you so much as hint at that as a possibility again so help me I will hurry to Hogwarts without a second thought, pull you out of class, and hug and kiss and cry over you in front of all of your classmates until you are willing to make the Unbreakable Vow swearing you'll never again threaten suicide. I have long recognized your dark and snarky sense of humor but that, my sweet girl, is_ _NOT_ _funny._

 _Love,_

 _Your (worried) mother_

 _-0-0-0-_

 _Mum,_

 _Please Please PLEASE do NOT do come to the school for ANY reason because if you do I WILL die… of embarrassment. I promise, I was kidding. Joking. Joshing. Not even slightly serious. I'm sorry. I swear I won't even THINK about jumping off the Astronomy Tower again until I learn to fly._

 _-Lyra_

 _-0-0-0-_

 _Agatha,_

 _Good. You're my favorite daughter and I'd hate to lose you._

 _How are your classes?_

 _-Mum_

 _-0-0-0-_

 _Mum,_

 _I'm your only daughter. And stop calling me Agatha. _

_Don't go getting yourself overly excited, but I made a friend. Her name is Sofinisba Wood. She's a Ravenclaw in my year and she was feeling as bad as I was after the Sorting because her whole family up until now has been in Gryffindor. We've been eating meals together. Her father is a professional Quidditch player for Puddlemore United but she hates Quidditch. She'd rather read or draw or study, so I think we're going to get on fine!_

 _Also, don't go saying "I told you so," but I accidentally struck up a conversation with Blondie in History of Magic and it turns out, she's not as repugnant as I initially assumed. Her name is Victoire Weasley. She's in Gryffindor and hates Quidditch as much as Sofi and I do._

 _I'm sorry I've been so dramatic, treating everything as if it's dismal and dreary and gray. I was just lonely, I guess. I miss you. I don't think we'd ever spent a day apart before I came to Hogwarts. I'm not loving this separation and I look forward to coming home for Christmas._

 _There's more good news, though. I like several of my classes. Potions is easy, as is Charms, and though Transfiguration poses challenges I am getting better each day. I am not crazy about Herbology because it's done outside or in the greenhouses where it's dirty but I suppose I'd better get used to it because if I want to be a Healer or open an apothecary someday I'll need to know all about the magical properties of plants. Professor Longbottom is nice enough. He was a student here at the same time as Draco. Did they know each other? I wrote Draco my first night but he hasn't replied. No surprise, since Astoria's always sick, but still, I was hoping to hear back._

 _Love,_

 _Lyra_

 _-0-0-0-_

 _Agatha Lyra,_

 _I miss you, too._

 _And no, I won't stop calling you Agatha, because Agatha is your carefully chosen name and I love it._

 _I am sorry to have to tell you this, especially since it can't be done in person, but Astoria was admitted to St. Mungos several days ago. She seems to be getting worse. In addition to worrying about her, Draco is consumed with work and trying to manage Scorpius on his own despite my offers to help, which is likely why he has not replied._

 _In the meantime, I'm glad you've made a friend (maybe two?) and are settling in and enjoying your classes._

 _See you soon,_

 _-Mum_

Narcissa placed her quill down between the notebook and ink bottle and sighed. It had been exceptionally difficult, sending her daughter off to Hogwarts. She hadn't wanted to. She'd thought about writing Headmistress McGonagall and telling her they'd opted to homeschool instead, but Lucius had convinced her she was being silly. He also reminded her that she couldn't keep Agatha Lyra cooped up forever.

It was just that so many things about sending her away scared Narcissa. They were close, as close as she ever could have hoped for, and though Agatha was generally a bright and charming girl, she had her moments in which she reminded Narcissa so much of herself, and of her father. Moments when she could be dark and brooding or unable to control her anxiety. What if, without her mother there to watch and protect her, this darkness overtook the light? What if the school stole her little girl away, as it had Severus?

She couldn't stand the thought of sending her daughter to stay so close to where he died.

"What are you doing?"

Narcissa jolted, then swiveled around in her chair. Lucius was standing in the doorway of the bedroom that had once belonged to Bellatrix. She'd moved into it immediately upon returning from dropping Agatha off at the train because, after only a handful of years back together, Lucius had again cheated on her, and this time what he'd done was inexcusable.

"I'm writing to Agatha."

"Is she adjusting?"

"She's making friends."

"Join me for lunch?" he asked, hoping to make peace. She shook her head.

"I'm not hungry."

Dejected, but knowing he deserved this, he left.

Given they were grandparents now, Narcissa didn't see the need to divorce Lucius, take her daughter, and leave. It wasn't as if she was looking to date. Though she was only in her mid-fifties, she'd decided upon learning of his recent infidelity that the sexual part of her life was now over, much to Septima's dismay and assurances she'd change her mind with time.

The next several years were not easy, to say the least. Narcissa slowly began to fall apart, though not to the extent she had before her daughter's birth. She started drinking again, beginning with the consumption of wine at social gatherings, and eventually leading to experiencing hangovers on average of about once per week. Except when Agatha Lyra was home. Difficult as it was, she managed not to get pissed when her daughter was home. Though sometimes she struggled to get out of bed.

On New Years Eve in 2012, Narcissa met Septima at Hogwarts, as usual. They smoked a little of the elven herb, but shortly before midnight, Septima announced she was taking her friend out "for a good time."

"I'm fifty-seven years old, Septima," Narcissa had said. "For me, a good time is doing a puzzle with my grandson or reading a letter from my daughter."

"You're ridiculous."

Septima apparated them to a little known Wizarding nightspot hidden between bars in Muggle London. It was called the Purple Peacock and appeared to Narcissa to be nothing more than a slightly seedy club with an over-forty crowd, where the lights were dimmed, the drinks had names, and the vibe was decidedly seductive.

"Narcissa, my dear friend, we are going to find you a man!"

"No thank you, Septima, I had one, I loved him, he's dead, and I'm done."

"Not a man to love, you hopelessly pathetic romantic. I'm going to find you a fuck."

Narcissa blushed, grateful for the dark lights in the place, and sputtered out a list of reasons this was a bad idea, starting with, "Septima, you're in your sixties, for the love of Merlin. How can you possibly _still_ be so utterly consumed with the need to engage with members of the opposite sex?"

"Easy. Members of the opposite sex are the ones with the penises. You may not recall, as it's been such a long time since you last saw one, but the penis is meant to go inside the vagina. Then back out. Then in again. Then out. And so on until you're screaming obscenities into your pillow, too dizzy to remember your name."

At that, Narcissa had covered her red face with her hands, feeling her the skin of her cheeks going hot with mortification. "Merlin's beard!"

By the time the midnight countdown had started, Narcissa had already been hit on by half a dozen decent looking men, mostly younger, all with complimentary things to say about her looks, her dress, and her demeanor. She ultimately turned them all down (though Septima made arrangements to see one the following weekend) but overall, it was a decent boost to her self-esteem.

The sense of mild euphoria was, unfortunately, short-lived. The very next morning Rita Skeeter's gossip column in the Daily Prophet included a large, glossy black and white picture of a couple at a similar club the night before, albeit one with a younger, hipper, snootier crowd, the uppermost crust of Wizarding high society.

The image featured an attractive young woman who looked to be in her late thirties, with long light hair, a slender but curvaceous figure, and heart-shaped lips. Even without color, Narcissa knew the woman's eyes were steel gray and her hair was platinum blonde.

It was Juliet Rosier.

And standing in front of her, his hand snaking down from her waist to grab her arse as he planted a tender kiss on her lips at midnight, was none other than newly appointed First Chairman of the Hogwarts School Board of Governors, Lucius Malfoy.

Too angry to read the accompanying article, Narcissa threw down the paper and ordered a house elf to burn it. She knew he was seeing other women, she knew that when… when she'd discovered… that thing… but to know he was again seeing _her_ , after all these years, the woman who'd slept with Severus and tried to steal Lucius away. Her own cousin? And what was worse, he brought her out in public, where anyone could see – where people were bound to see – and touched her like one would a wife or girlfriend, in plain view of a gossip reporter?

This was punishment, it had to be. He was punishing her for again moving out of their room. Fuck that. Fuck him. She was leaving.

"I know what you're thinking." His voice cut through her like a knife through her back. She hadn't heard him enter the dining room. "I realize it was stupid for me to take her there, of all places. I should have been considerably more careful."

"My daughter could see this. Her friends could see this. I'm certain our son has seen it. Have you no respect for me at all?"

"I made a mistake."

"You've made a lot of mistakes, Lucius."

"I'm sorry."

"You always are."

He sighed. He'd tried to be faithful to her, he really had given it a good go, lasted a number of years, too, but ultimately there were just some things he wanted to do with a woman that he did not feel comfortable doing with his wife. Plus, if he was being completely honest with himself, he just plain enjoyed cheating.

"How did you spend the night?" he asked.

She smiled in spite of the situation.

"I spent it as I spend every New Years, Lucius. Getting high with my friend."

* * *

 **2014-2017**

In 2014, Agatha Lyra Prince Malfoy sold her first potions patent to the Ministry of Magic. She was not yet sixteen years old and she'd managed to develop a variation of Polyjuice Potion that worked in half the time, lasted twice the duration, and did not come with the awful, painful side effects of the original potion during the transition. She'd originally just set out for a way to temporarily turn her hair blonde (it worked, but damn, she looked atrocious with blonde hair) and ended up making a decent chunk of change and a name for herself instead.

She decided upon selling it that if she was going to develop her own potions line, she needed a name to trademark them under.

 _Mum,_

 _What do you think of Prince Potions? It's simple but I can make the logo a bit showy, perhaps a potions vial with a crown on top? I've been researching since I arrived here and I learned that Prince was my dad's mother's maiden name, which I assume you already know, since you chose it for me. I therefore thought Prince Potions would be a nice way to subtly honor him without giving away our secret. Do you think he would have liked that?_

 _-Lyra_

 _-0-0-0-_

 _Agatha Lyra,_

 _I think your dad would have loved that._

 _I'm proud of you. He would have been too._

 _-Mum_

For Agatha Lyra, one of the best aspects of life at Hogwarts was, for the first time, being able to learn things about her biological father that her mother hadn't taught her. She could casually ask questions about him, getting new details from those like Professor McGonagall who'd actually known him, plus she found his own Potions textbook in an odd room that seemed to disappear and reappear at random, and she learned he'd been in something called the Slug Club, an invitation-only group comprised only of the most talented students.

Thanks to a long, honest conversation with her mother before her first year began, Agatha arrived knowing her father was considered a traitor by some but a war hero by most, that he had taught Potions and, later, Defense Against the Dark Arts, before spending a year as Headmaster, that he had not been popular with students but had a decent relationship with most of his colleagues (well, prior to the whole killing Dumbledore thing) and that no one knew, or could ever know, about his relationship with Narcissa and the child they conceived together.

This was a weighty burden for an eleven year old to bear, but as she was no ordinary eleven year old, she carried it well.

She did not expect to discover that he was still such a polarizing figure in the Wizarding world, though. There were fellow students whose parents had been taught by him and swore he couldn't be the great man Potter later claimed he was. There were fellow students who felt his betrayal of the Dark Lord warranted spitting on the floor whenever his name was mentioned, so long as no professors were present. And there were fellow students who conceded yes, he was a war hero, but only because he was creepily obsessed with a woman who didn't want him, Harry Potter's mother.

None of these images fit the one so carefully crafted for her by her mother, and this left Agatha feeling at time helpless and confused.

Still, she regarded him as her special secret and comforted herself with the knowledge that he'd loved her before she was born, and that was enough to keep her from growing too sad over the situation, no matter what the other students said when May 2nd rolled around every year.

In 2017, she sat for her N.E.W.T.S., hoping to make Exceeds Expectations across the board, and prepared to leave Hogwarts behind forever.

Though she enjoyed potion making and would continue to develop her own under the name Prince Potions, she was still interested in becoming a Healer.

 _Mum,_

 _I've been thinking, I want to focus on mental issues._

 _Opinion?_

 _-0-0-0-_

 _Agatha,_

 _I am going to need more context because I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about._

 _-Mum_

 _-0-0-0-_

 _Mum,_

 _We had our last meetings with our Heads of House this week. Mine was this morning with Professor Flitwick, obviously. I told him I wish to be a Healer. He asked why. I tried to explain. I don't think he understood but he was supportive anyway. I've given it a lot of thought, and I think I want to be a Healer so I can help witches and wizards with mental, social, or emotional issues not caused by spell damage. I want to help those who sometimes feel too sad to get out of bed, those who cannot escape the pain of past trauma, and those who drink to escape their troubles. Muggles have ways of treating these illnesses. Why, when we are clearly superior to those unable to harness magic, are we so sorely lacking in this area?_

 _-Lyra_

Though it made Narcissa inwardly cringe to read "We are clearly superior," she responded enthusiastically to her daughter, encouraging her in this endeavor, though she couldn't help feeling self-conscious over it. Over the years she'd done her damndest to hide her depression and alcoholism from the girl… but she couldn't imagine her beloved daughter's desire to help those with the very issues she'd faced was a mere coincidence.

"You've done your best," Septima assured her the next time they met up for a butterbeer. "You've done your best and she's turned out well. She's happy, healthy, well-adjusted, intelligent, thoughtful, and she has friends. Isn't that everything you were hoping for?"

"Yes," answered Narcissa honestly, feeling relieved. "Yes, it is."

* * *

 **2017-2020**

In 2017, just a couple of months after Agatha Lyra finished her Hogwarts education, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy started his.

He quickly made a friend and wrote home to tell his family about him.

"It's Harry Potter's youngest son," Draco read to his wife, parents, and sister over dinner. "Albus Severus Potter."

"Wait, what? What is the boy's name?" asked Narcissa.

"Albus Severus Potter," Draco repeated. "What a bloody ugly name. Damn good thing the kid didn't have a lisp. He'd have to go around calling himself, 'Albuth Theveruth.'"

"Hilarious. You should write comedy for the stage," deadpanned Agatha, who, upon recognize the first name of her father, was no more thrilled about this than Narcissa was.

"How could he stick Severus' name in between those of the man who manipulated him for all those years and the last name of the boy who tortured him all through school? How could he publicly honor Severus by bestowing his name upon one of his children when Severus' own child…" She glanced anxiously at Agatha and pushed away her plate, unable to eat another bite, overcome by both a glacial inner chill and the feeling of hot tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "Can you believe it? The fucking Chosen One doesn't have enough with all of his fame and fortune and adoration and his happy, healthy family, he had to go and steal Severus' name too?

"For the love of all things fucking magic," snapped Lucius. "It's been nearly twenty years, Narcissa. Get over it."

"Go to hell," she sniped back. She rose, threw down her cloth napkin, and stormed out of the dining room.

"Thanks so much, Father," said Agatha sarcastically. "Now I have a reason to resume brewing my newly developed hangover pepperup potion."

In 2019, Astoria Greengrass Malfoy finally succumbed to the effects of the curse and passed away peacefully in her sleep shortly before her son was to return to school for his third year. Scorpius invited Albus Severus Potter to the funeral. Though Narcissa would never like that the boy had Snape's first name as his middle one, she softened toward Albus, as he seemed to be a good friend for her awkward, lonely grandson. What harm could it do, letting them remain friends?

What harm indeed.

One year later, the boys nearly destroyed the entire Wizarding world by screwing around with a Time Turner to help some girl save Cedric Diggory. Or, at least, that was the story shared with the Malfoys at first.

Except that wasn't it.

There was something far more nefarious at play.

As it turns out, the one responsible for the near-destruction of their peaceful existence, the one who was truly at fault for temporarily plunging them into an alternate reality in which Potter was dead, Severus was alive, and Narcissa had been killed in the Final Battle, a world in which a dark figure known as The Augury reigned, was the daughter of the darkest wizard ever to walk to earth and his sadistic, obsessive, long-abused mistress, Bellatrix Black Lestrange.

"She called herself Delphi Diggory," fourteen-year-old Scorpius explained to his father, aunt, grandparents, and best friend's family. Draco and Harry Potter had worked together to save the two boys and thankfully been able to put the world right again in the process and the day after the ordeal, they'd gotten together at Malfoy Manor to discuss what had happened. Ginny Potter was there holding hands with Albus Severus. The other two Potter children, James and Lily, were present as well. Narcissa had to utilize her skills as an Occlumens for the first time in over twenty years upon laying eyes on the redhead called Lily. It was simply too much. She needed a damn drink.

"Did anyone even know that Bellatrix Lestrange and Lord Voldemort had a child?" asked Harry incredulously. "I never would've guessed."

"We knew," said Narcissa, sick with guilt. "I knew. I named her. Delphini. She was such a happy baby, but I… I couldn't keep her."

Her niece had almost cost her the life of her grandson – and, in an alternate reality, her own life and that of her daughter – and why? Because the girl wanted to restore her father to power, not because she was as dedicated to pureblood supremacy and immortality as he had been, but because she wanted to please him, she wanted his approval, she wanted him to love her.

Delphini sounded just like her fucking mother. Nonverbally, Narcissa cursed Bella's name.

"I can't believe it," said Ginny, looking as stunned as her husband. "Bellatrix Lestrange and You-Know-Who."

Narcissa buried her face in her hands. "Damn it. If I'd kept her, if I'd raised her, this never would have happened."

"No, Mother, please, don't blame yourself," said Draco, reaching out to take her hand. "Delphini can't help who she is. She might have been even more dangerous if she'd grown up here, gone to Hogwarts, and all that. Her father is Lord Voldemort. That's why she is the way she is. Not because you didn't raise her."

But despite his reassurances, Narcissa didn't believe that for a moment.

"I agree with Draco," Harry piped up. "My uncle's awful sister once said, 'If there's something bad with the bitch, they'll be something wrong with the pup.' I hated her for it at the time but perhaps she had a point."

"My sister…" Narcissa took a deep breath before continuing. This was, for her, a touchy subject. "My sister was merely misunderstood."

"But the Dark Lord wasn't," said Draco. "He was evil. And that evil lives on inside Delphini. I can't even believe she's still alive. You told me she died before her second birthday."

"I know," said Narcissa simply. "I lied."

Shortly thereafter Delphini went on trial in front of the Wizengamot, charged with, among other things, murder.

She was quickly convicted and sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Thanks, though, to a combination of Malfoy money, Potter influence, and the pity of Hermione Granger, current Minister for Magic, Narcissa was permitted a visit with her niece just prior to her transfer back to the prison.

"What do you want?" snapped Delphini about sight of her aunt. "I heard your testimony. You gave me up when I was a baby. You never cared about me."

"That's not true, Nova. I loved you very much."

"What did you call me?" Delphini tried to stand but powerful magic had her forcibly confined to her chair.

"Nova. That's the name your mother gave you. Look." Narcissa pulled a framed photograph from her handbag. It featured Bellatrix holding her infant daughter, looking at her with an expression of unconditional love. "I've had this on my bedside table for over twenty years. That's you. And that's your mother."

"My mother? Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Bellatrix Black. She adored you. You were her everything. The Prophet called you the accidental love-child, but I believe you were planned. She wanted a baby, a girl, she'd wanted that for some time. She had a difficult time in childbirth, and at first sight of you, she cried because she wasn't sure how to be a good mother. Our own mother was awful. But Bella tried, she really did, and no matter what rubbish they print about her, she was a good mother. After she died I kept you. I kept you for several months. But I was pregnant myself and… and terribly unwell. I was sick… mentally… and an alcoholic… and I couldn't… I couldn't… When Rodolphus said he wanted Euphemia to raise you, I was upset because I felt you were mine, but I also felt a touch of relief, because I knew I couldn't manage two babies, I could barely manage to take care of myself, and I figured she'd do a decent job."

"She hated me."

"I was wrong."

"What about my father? Do you have pictures of him? Did he love me?"

Narcissa reached back into her bag and pulled out the Prophet article featuring the lone image of Tom Riddle from Hogwarts, when he was young and handsome.

"I wish I could say he loved you because I think it's what you need to hear, but I'll not lie to you. He was incapable of feeling love. He was conceived without it and raised without it and by the time he found someone to love him, it was too late. Perhaps it was always too late."

"He didn't love my mother either?"

"No. But she loved him. She loved him and she loved you. And I loved you. And I'm sorry."

"Time's up!" called a Ministry Auror from the doorway.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa apologized again. She knew she wasn't supposed to have any physical contact with the prisoner, but she threw her arms around Delphini – no, Nova – and hugged her tightly for as long as she dared. One of the guards led Narcissa from the room as the other two took her niece by the arms.

"Narcissa?" called the girl. Narcissa turned. "Thank you."

The following summer, Narcissa set out to do something she had tried to do in 1998. It wasn't possible then and by the time it became possible, she'd chickened out, telling herself it would only cause her further pain.

She wrote to Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall with a request.

A request the elderly witch promptly granted.

Which is what led to Narcissa Malfoy leading her daughter across Hogwarts grounds and into the castle on a warm, sunny day in late July.

July 30th, to be specific.

The 24th anniversary of the day Severus Snape killed Dumbledore.

The 24th anniversary of the night he called Narcissa his.

But Agatha Lyra did not need to know that part…

Septima Vector met them in the hall. Now 76 years old, she was slowing down in the sexcapades department, but she was no less feisty or matter-of-fact than she'd ever been.

"Afternoon Narcissa, Lyra." She hugged them both hello. "So, Lyra, your mother tells me you're _finally_ seeing someone…"

Narcissa left them in the hall with Minerva while she headed alone up the steps to the Headmistresses office. She settled into the chair behind the desk, and faced the man whose face she'd seen in her dreams thousands of times in the twenty-three years since his death. Her stomach fluttered. Her heart raced. She smoothed her hair, wishing she hadn't let it go mostly gray, and glanced nervously down at her outfit, an open red cloak over a long white dress. Red, his favorite color, and white, what he'd wanted her to wear on their wedding day.

"Hello, Severus."

"Narcissa." He smiled. Clearly he'd been expecting her. "You're looking well."

"As are you." She crossed one knee over the other and tried to breathe normally. "You don't look a single year older than you did when I last saw you."

He laughed. "And you don't look a day older than… how old are you?"

"Today is July 30th, 2021. You tell me."

"You're sixty-six years, three months, and approximately two weeks old, but you don't look two weeks older than sixty-six and three months."

"You're a terrible person," teased Narcissa. She stood, her steel eyes glittering. "Well, it's been nice chatting with you."

The painted version of Severus Snape held up a hand. "Please, Narcissa, don't go."

She smirked, returning to the chair. "I'll stay, if you insist."

"I do. You're as beautiful as you ever were and you know it."

"Even with my hair turned gray?" Graying hair was partly what compelled her to seek out an affair in the first place - the worry that she was getting old and was therefore no longer desirable, not to her husband, not to any man. Severus, in his portrait, smiled fondly at the memory.

"I like your hair gray," he said. "Now tell me about the last twenty-three years."

"There's an awful lot to tell. Did Professor McGonagall tell you why I requested this visit?"

"She told me about your niece's sentencing and said you thought it was high time I met my daughter, Agatha Lyra."

Narcissa cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't tell her Agatha was your daughter. I said I needed to speak with you about a highly personal matter that had been put off for far too long. How did she know Agatha is your daughter?"

"She prefers to go by Lyra, doesn't she?" asked Severus, purposely ignoring this question. Even in portrait form, Narcissa felt she could see his dark eyes twinkling.

"How did you know that?"

"I know a lot about my daughter. I know you gave her the last name Malfoy, which I don't like, but I've accepted it as I'm sure it was the best thing for her. I also know that you preceded the name Malfoy with the name Prince, a decision I happen to love, so thank you for that.

"I also know that she's excellent with a cauldron, that she started experimenting with various homemade concoctions at a young age and developed her first viable potion while still at Hogwarts, and that she has recently come out with one that can be taken at any point during a person's alcohol consumption to both diminish the liquor's effects and avoid a subsequent hangover, which St. Mungo's has since purchased from her for no small sum. I wonder what inspired her to create such a potion."

Pink spots dotted Narcissa's cheeks, as they had so often when she was seeing Severus.

"I don't drink anymore," she said with a touch of defensiveness. "I haven't so much as been tipsy in over eight months, and from the time she was born until she went to Hogwarts, I didn't touch it at all... mostly."

"I knew that too," he said, smiling. "I'm proud of you. I realize sobriety hasn't come easily."

"It didn't… it didn't become a real problem again until Lucius…" Her voice trailed off, as she was unwilling to reveal what her husband had done that pushed her back into the bottle. "Well, anyway, Andromeda gave it up a year ago when she learned she was going to be a _great-grandmother_ and I figured if she could, I could. What else do you know about Agatha?"

"I know that she was made a prefect in her fifth year and that she pitched a fit to McGonagall when she wasn't made Head Girl two years later. She sat right here in this very office to plead her case, hoping to get Minerva to change her mind, which she didn't. I watched her carefully, hoping to discern whether she more resembled you or me and came to the conclusion she's a mix of us both."

"She has your eyes and hair and nose but my lips. And a slightly bent ear caused by the midwife at birth."

"Yes," he said, "But that's not what I meant. I meant in terms of personality. Her voice is yours, as was the delicate way she moved and the dignified way in which she carried herself, but the scowl on her face when she didn't get her way… that was mine."

Narcissa smiled. "Her personality is a lot like yours. She was a sunny but serious child and as a teenager was at times moody, brooding and sullen, but unlike me, she wasn't shy, and unlike either of us, in adulthood she has many friends. Now that she's out of school, she's always going out with friends or to plays… I've taken her to a number of plays, Severus."

"One each year, for her birthday, since she turned eleven," he said. "And she was even in a couple here after Septima restarted the old drama program."

"How do you know so much? Have you had her followed?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what exactly?"

"I tell him what he needs to know," barked a disgruntled voice from a portrait high on the wall and to the left.

"Elizabeth Burke!" Narcissa gasped. "You insisted we have your other portrait moved back to Malfoy Manor after the war – was it so you could spy on my daughter?"

Elizabeth Burke scowled. "I don't approve of clandestine love affairs… but the man deserved to know whether you were sufficiently raising his child."

Narcissa couldn't fight off a grin. "Thank you."

"Now tell me what I don't know," said Severus. "Elizabeth refused to spy on _you_ for me."

"You want to know about my personal life?"

"Of course. Have you had it as good with anyone else as you did with me?"

She giggled, thinking it was amazing he could still make her blush after all these years. "That's a wildly inappropriate question, Professor!" she scolded "But if you must know, I reconciled with Lucius when Agatha was six but left him for good over ten years ago. I've been sleeping in the room we'd given to Bella ever since."

"What happened over ten years ago?"

"I found out he'd been cheating again, despite his continued promises not to do so anymore. I confronted him. We had a row. A terrible one. I said awful things to him but… but he deserved it. He… he had finally done something I couldn't forgive."

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Did he hit you?"

"No," said Narcissa. She scoffed. "I wish he had. I'd have preferred it. A bruise would've cleared up faster than what he gave me."

"Oh dear me," said Dilys Derwent sympathetically from her portrait. She nodded knowingly, having seen this countless times during her years as a Healer. "You're referring to a social disease?"

Narcissa's cheeks reddened even further with the sheer humiliation of it, which Severus took as confirmation.

"I used to deal with female patients who had those rather regularly in my years at St. Mungo's," the former Healer continued. "It's nothing new. Did you receive treatment?"

"Yes," said Narcissa curtly, not at all wanting to discuss this with the entire history of Hogwarts Headmistresses and Headmasters, all of whom she knew to be listening even if they pretended otherwise. "It wasn't fatal and I'm fine now, but I couldn't bring myself to continue sleeping… sharing… staying with him. I wasn't planning to have more children, but it bothered me to know his indiscretion cost me the ability." She sighed, avoiding eyes contact with Severus' portrait. Though it had been over a decade, the pain remained.

"On the plus side, our relationship is much more open now. We talk. We're friends. We've been together over fifty years and now, finally, we're friends. He no longer keeps secrets from me, as there's no need. He's been dating Juliet Rosier for the past nine years, since Yaxley died. Can you believe it? My husband is turning seventy in a couple of weeks and he still manages to spent at least two or three nights a week away with her. I can't even manage to stay awake past nine-fifteen. But Lucius is happy because she's younger than we are without being inappropriately so and she's happy because he spends a bloody fortune on her and I'm happy because I no longer have to worry whether he's cheating on me. I know he is and I don't care."

"Why didn't you get divorced?" asked Severus. "Don't you date?"

Narcissa frowned. "Why didn't you survive?" she asked testily. "And no, I don't date. I don't see the point. The only man I wish to see went and died."

"I'm sorry to have died."

"Your last thought was of her," said Narcissa accusingly, even though she had come here to introduce him to their daughter, not to confront him about his last moments. She had thought she was over it, but now, facing him, remembering… old wounds run deep, as they say.

"Potter told the entire Wizarding world all about how you could think only of his mother as you suffered, how you made him look into your eyes because his eyes were Lily's, how she was your final thought and her toady green eyes were the last things would wanted to see."

He shook his head, smiling sadly.

"You were my _first_ thought, Narcissa. When the snake bit me, when I tried to stop the bleeding, when I was panicked wondering if there was any possible way I could save myself, it was for you. I thought only of you and of our unborn baby. You were the reason I wanted to live – but when I saw Potter, I needed for him to know the truth about me, about his mother. I couldn't die without someone knowing the truth, someone other than you, because the truth already put you in danger. You were the reason I wanted to _live_ , my Narcissa. But knowing I wouldn't be remembered as another soulless Death Eater devoted to the Dark Lord was important to me, and looking into the eyes that had been hers was my only comfort in death."

"Oh." Narcissa wiped away an involuntary tear, feeling silly for having let this eat away at her for over two decades. "It hurt, you know. Reading the Prophet. They reported it as if you and his mother had shared this great love story, this childhood friendship, as if your regret over what happened to her was all that colored everything you did for the rest of your life, and while I knew that was largely true, it killed me, Severus."

"I don't know what I could have done differently, Narcissa. What if I'd told him about you, if I'd shared one of my memories of us or mentioned you or our baby, and he told someone else, and then he was defeated? You'd be left vulnerable. I couldn't let you be hurt on my account, as I told Lucius."

"As you told Lucius?"

"When he confronted me."

"Tell me what happened." Gingerly she touched the edge of the frame of his portrait, wishing beyond all that was magic it were possible to touch him, the real him, just once more instead. "Lucius gave me so little detail."

"He found me before I was summoned to the Shrieking Shack. We… exchanged words. And blows. I was upset that you'd told him without me present, but since he already knew, I told him the truth – that I loved you, that I fully intended to marry you. I didn't tell him about the baby… just in case."

"Harry Potter named his son after you, did you know? The boy is called Albus Severus Potter. When I heard I wanted to scream at the injustice of it. How could he pair your name with that of James Potter, your tormentor, who caused you so much pain? Sandwiched between his name and Dumbledore's, when – no offense, Albus – the old man had treated you like a puppet on strings, had let you believe you could save the boy when he knew Potter was destined to die, for him to use you. And I was jealous, darling. I was jealous because _his_ son was able to bare your name when our own daughter couldn't."

"According to Minerva, Albus Severus and your Scorpius are rather close."

Narcissa nodded. "Too close. They've recently gotten themselves into a bit of trouble – well, I'm sure you know. It's what led to Nova's arrest."

"Delphini."

"Yes. Delphini. I was permitted a visit with her, during which I showed her the picture I have of her with her mother and tried to convince her she'd been loved. Do you think it's my fault, Severus? If I hadn't given her to Euphemia, do you think…? Do you think she still would've tried to bring back the Dark Lord?"

"I think you can't blame yourself. I think she was starved for love and affection and a sense of importance and she, like your sister, thought she could find all that with the Dark Lord."

"She was loved, though. She was loved by my sister and she was loved by me. It _is_ my fault."

"It is not. Imagine how it would have been for her, to be raised in the Wizarding world, to have gone to Hogwarts, with everyone knowing she was the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange and suspecting her father was Lord Voldemort?"

"Agatha Lyra grew up loved. By me, by Draco, even by Lucius. It was – that's what brought me back to him. He raised her as if she were his own. But I never lied to her, I always told her about you, I told her we had to keep you our special secret. I told her every day how much you would have loved her."

"What is she doing now, out of Hogwarts? I know she still brews, but last I'd heard she was working toward becoming a Healer?"

"She still is. She excels in the program so I have no doubts she'll succeed. She wants to help… She wants to help people like me. After you died, Severus, I… I fell apart, I… I couldn't function. I wasn't well. She wants to help those who aren't well, for whom seeking help is… She wants to make people feel better."

"That's an altruistic path," he said. "Are you certain she's ours? She could've been switched at birth."

"Don't try to deny her, you horse's ass," said Narcissa, grinning. "She looks just like you."

"The poor girl. I'd hoped she'd look like you."

"She's beautiful. I worried when she was younger. Her appearance was the one area in which she lacked confidence, she was teased by children and adults even commented on it, but she's blossomed since school. She has inner beauty and it extends undeniably outward…"

"Does she date?"

"She…" Narcissa bit her lip and reached up to twirl her hair.

Severus chortled. "You're biting _and_ twirling? Two tells. You have something you don't wish to reveal. What is it? Does she have a boyfriend? Is she married? Pregnant?"

"She's… She dates," said Narcissa. "She doesn't have a boyfriend because her boyfriend is a girl."

He cocked an eyebrow. "She dates girls?"

"Yes…" Narcissa removed her index finger from her hair and folded her hands in her lap. "Which is fine. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. It's fine."

"You're saying 'it's fine' in the same tone you used when you tried to convince me you were unbothered by the knowledge you'd been sleeping with a half-blood."

"I… no!" She avoided his eye, realized she was being silly, and let out a sigh. "Okay, perhaps, a little. But it's mostly fine!"

This cracked him up and she had to smile too, because even in portrait form, when he laughed his eyes crinkled in the corners.

"Did you tell her it's fine?"

"I told her I'm fine with it as long as all the girls she dates are purebloods from good families."

"Purebloods from good families, eh? No half-bloods from terrible families?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. Let's compromise. How about non-Muggles from mediocre families?"

"You haven't changed," he said. She was about to argue that she'd changed considerably when he added, "You're as perfect now as you were the day I asked you to marry me."

Her expression softened. "I'm every bit as much in love with you today as I was then, Severus. Stupidly, hopelessly."

"It's mutual."

She breathed in sharply, resisting the urge to cry. "I'm not simply here today to catch up with you, Love. I'm here because… I know you're not entirely you, not really you, because you're a portrait which is like a sentient memory and all that, but…"

"But…?"

"But I want her to meet you. She's in the hall, with Septima – did you know I've become rather close friends with Septima?" He nodded. "Well, good. Anyway… I thought she should... After seeing how damaged Delphini is... I wanted Agatha to... Will you meet her?"

Naturally he said he would, so she went out into the hall to retrieve her daughter. She invited both Septima and Minerva to come up with her too, since one was her best friend from whom she might need moral support, and the other was the owner of the office.

Once inside, Narcissa guided her daughter to the chair she'd just vacated, opposite his portrait.

"Agatha Lyra, I know this seems strange, unorthodox at best, but… I'd like for you to meet your father."

"Hello Lyra," he said, his painted dark eyes twinkling.

Smiling back with twinkling eyes that mirrored his own, she replied, "Hi, Dad."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks so much for sticking with the story! In a few days I'll post the letter from Severus to Narcissa, the one he wrote a few days before his death and regretted writing, the one she read just before deciding to take the abortion potion... and then not take it. That was originally supposed to be the end of the story, not the last chapter or this one, but I couldn't let them end on such a sad note! Thanks times a thousand for the reviews! I've decided to put responses after the letter so I can do them all at once (and get this posted today rather than next week). Much love in particular to those of you who stuck through this fic all the way from the start. Your comments kept me going! I can't believe what began as a tiny little scene in my Augury Origin trilogy turned in a 400,000 word fic of its own. I hope you'll look for teh next one, about the Black sisters growing up, and periodic updates to the smutty Bella/Tom Riddle one. Thanks again! **-AL**


	52. What Severus Wrote

**PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE FIRST:**

 **A/N:**

Originally Chapter 50 and the Epilogue did not exist and the story ended after Chapter 48 (which was 49 at the time) with this standalone letter, the one Severus penned to Narcissa in the enchanted notebook days before his death, which he told her he regretted having written. This was the first full thing I wrote for this fanfic and though I went in another direction for the ending, I wanted to still share it with those of you who stayed with me through the whole fic and might be wondering what he wrote.

Review Responses at the bottom.

Thanks!

 **-AL**

* * *

 **What Severus Wrote**

 _My beautiful Narcissa,_

 _You asked if I've thought about the possibility of us._

 _Yes. I have._

 _Of course I have._

 _I've thought about it countless times. Every day for several months, as a matter of fact, and even more frequenly over these last several days._

 _I've had a great many thoughts regarding you, our baby, and the possibility of us._

 _I've thought about what it would be like to fall asleep with you each night and wake with you in my arms every morning._

 _I've thought about asking you to leave your husband._

 _I've thought about asking you to marry me._

 _I've thought about what it would be like to watch your belly grow with my baby inside, to press my hand to your skin and feel it kick, to comfort and encourage you while you deliver, to cut the cord, to hold it in my arms. I've wondered and worried about whether I'd be as rubbish a father as my own or whether I would be able to be like you, to take my own childhood trauma and use it as motivation to be the best parent any child could have, to give our offspring a safe and happy upbringing, free from the abuse and pain we both suffered through ours._

 _I've even thought about baby names. I've thought about what it would be like if you took my name. I've thought about how much I would love to give you my name, to know you are mine and only mine while I am yours and only yours, and to know that everyone else knows it too._

 _I've thought about Christmas mornings and birthdays and anniversaries, about seeing plays together and going to dinner and watching movies and not having to worry about getting caught with our arms around each other, to kiss you in public, to retire after a long day to a home that we share. I've thought about the relief and satisfaction that would come from revealing to the world how I feel about you. I've thought about sending our child off on the Hogwarts express in twelve years time and whether she or he would be a Slytherin, like we were, or a Hufflepuff, as you almost were, or a Ravenclaw, as I nearly was, or, Merlin forbid, a Gryffindor._

 _Perhaps we would teach our child how to cook. Or bake. Or how to dance. Or fly. Or how to brew complicated potions worthy of membership to the Slug Club._

 _I've thought about all of this at great length._

 _Being a practical man, though, I've thought about other things, too._

 _I've thought about being exposed as disloyal or a traitor, and being killed for it - or, knowing the Dark Lord, being killed for even less. I've accepted the likelihood of this._

 _But I have had other thoughts I cannot accept._

 _I've thought about whether He might consider you a traitor if I'm proven to be one. I've thought about how that would make you a target. And even if by some miracle it doesn't, I've thought about the way it would feel for you to live in a world that He controls after I am gone, to raise my child in that world, to be on your own and struggling and scared, never able to escape the fearthat someday your disloyalty, and mine, would be discovered, and to potentially see your nightmares become a reality, in which he punishes our child to punish us._

 _I've thought about what it would be like if He decides killing me would not be as harsh a punishment for my disloyalty as killing you._

 _I've thought about what it would be like to get another woman I love murdered for my mistakes._

 _I've thought about what it would be like if, the next time the Dark Lord decides to kill a baby, the Killing Curse doesn't rebound and the baby – OUR baby – dies._

 _I've thought about what it would be like to lose you as I lost Lily and I've thought about what it would be like for both of us to die, leaving behind an orphan like Harry Potter, to be raised by those who may be abusive or neglectful, as he was, rather than cared for and loved, like Draco and Nova. I've thought about the possibility our own child could grow up 'marked' as Potter was, having a child that would have to grow up hidden and hunted, producing a child we could not protect._

 _And I cannot risk it, Narcissa. Not for either of us and certainly not for what's ours._

 _So yes, Narcissa, I have thought about the possibility of us, and as much as it pains me to write this to you (and it does. You must believe me when I say it does) I am afraid that "Us" is, at present, impossible. It will be better for you – safer – if you take the potion. It will be better for you – safer – if you stay with Lucius. And though it is destroying me to admit it, it will be better for you – safer – if we end this affair._

 _This means no more secret messages back and forth, no more secret visits._

 _It means I shall send you the potion by owl rather than delivering it in person._

 _It means goodbye – for now._

 _Should the Dark Lord fall and we survive, only then we may again discuss the possibility of us, and of the future, a future that, I hope, will include a child of our own._

 _But for now, my beautiful Narcissa, we cannot be together. Simply put, it is not safe. And I need to keep you safe. Though I am certain this break will hurt you as it does me, I hope you find solace in the fact that I love you. I am in love with you. I will miss you._

 _Do not feel obligated to wait for me, but I will wait for you._

 _Also, to answer the question you have been asking me for over two years, the answer remains the same as it always has: yes._

 _Yes, I want you._

 _I can't imagine ever not wanting you._

 _I want everything with you._

 _And I am sorry._

 _–SS_

* * *

 ** _C'est finis._**

* * *

 **Review Responses Chapters 49-Epilogue**

 **Harry Hobbit** – Thanks for all of your support and reviews and PMs! You've kept me going through the entire process, dating all the way back to the Augury trilogy. I appreciate every single review and always looked forward to seeing your reactions to each chapter. Some nights I didn't want to work on it but then I'd see you'd left a review and be like, "Well, I guess I can put in another hour at the computer." haha sad by true! I hugely appreciate it, is what I'm saying. I'll PM you back later (I see I have a msg but haven't read it yet) but I wanted to say THANKS x 1000!

 **Nephthys** – I can't tell you how much I appreciate your thoughtful, in-depth reviews! I am super happy that you liked the way Agatha Lyra grew up. I don't know if I'll revisit her in a future fic but I won't rule it out. You've also got me contemplating writing a one-shot about the alternate-reality world in which the Dark Lord won (based on a scene in Cursed Child) from the POV of Snape after Cissy's death. Ohh, plot bunny… Thanks, too, for your comments about Lucius' reaction to having been betrayed by Severus. I am obsessed with wondering how former Death Eaters and the like dealt with knowing he'd betrayed them and become a hero. It didn't make it into this fic but in my head I'd written a short scene of Septima and Narcissa visiting the cemetery where Hogwarts professors who didn't have families are buried, figuring he's there. Maybe that'll end up being a one-shot someday too. It's interesting that you found it somewhat therapeutic to read because honestly, I found it incredibly therapeutic to write, more so than any of my other fics has been. About Lucius, I agree with you and feel badly about it. He's definitely a less nuanced character and that's in part because I struggled to connect with him. I just plain don't like him. But lately I've been reading Lucius/Hermione fics (long story) and see him in a new way that makes me wish I'd developed him different. I hope he was at least somewhat redeemed in the end.

 **Guest** – Thanks! I didn't like that about Delphini's 'bad blood' either and I don't think Narcissa would have believe it (at least not in the world I've created for her) which is why she feels guilt and regret over not having raised her with the love she needed. Not sure if that came through in the end of this fic, but when I read Cursed Child my heart just broke for Delphi! I get you on the STD ("social disease") part. I didn't like doing it to her either but I felt like, with all that crazy sex he has with evvvverrrrybody, it was only a matter of time before he brought home a little something extra and unpleasant. The reason I had Narcissa tell Draco that Nova died at age two (which he believed because she's always been sick with various things) is because I didn't want him to even remotely consider the possibility she'd come back during the Cursed Child stuff or that he would've told his son about her. One of the things that bothered me in Cursed Child was that nobody seemed to realize this girl existed, which made no sense since she was born at Malfoy Manor while three Malfoys were currently living there. Your review where you said "Lucius was like, 'tea?'" cracked me up, btw. Thanks!

 **Karli1252** – Thanks so much! I agonized over the decision to redo the ending to include Chapter 50 and the epilogue rather than finishing with this letter so I'm glad you loved it.

 **Avery** – Thank you! I'm thrilled that you liked the mirrored twinkling line. I thought about including their conversaion but ultimately wanted to end with a little mystery. In my head, though, Lyra's girlfriend is her childhood best friend, Sofinisba Wood, fellow Ravenclaw and daughter of famous Quidditch player Oliver Wood. They were just friends all through Hogwarts, spent a couple of years apart post school due to their studies getting in the way, and now they've rediscovered each other as adults. I'm such a nerd; I mentally write fanfiction based on my own fanfiction… hahaha. About your previous review, I'm sorry to have made you cry but I'm glad you have a dog to hug. I based much of Narcissa's depresson issues/behavior on my own when I was younger (though I didn't drink) which is why I wanted to show her getting better but never completely being cured, since that's how I feel. I'm glad you like Septima. She's sort of the antithesis of me, my complete opposite, and she was therefore fun to write!

 **TheQueenHarleyQ98** –I appreciate that you liked how Lucius raised her as I know not everyone loved that (I even got two PMs about it… lol). Thank you for your lovely comments about this fic!

 **Fragilereality** – Thank you! Blood purity beliefs run deep… I'm loving your fics by the way. Can't wait for more updates about Hermione/Lucius' upcoming wedding.

 **EmoEmpire** – I am doing a prequel about the Black sisters growing up and growing apart. It's not ready to be posted yet but keep an eye open for it in the future! Thanks!

 **910Doctor** – Thank you for your review! I fell for the Snape/Narcissa pairing quite accidentally and am now all about it, so I'm glad I made it work for you, too! :)

 **Everything Hurts** – I'll get back to Devoted to Darkness soon! I shouldn't have posted the first chapter so early because I wasn't ready to focus on it but I'll have more time now that this one's done.

 **KleaKuqi** – Don't hate me! Haha. Thanks for reading and all of your reviews!

 **Precious Little Cherry Blossom** – I hate that he had to die. JKRowling broke my heart with that. I'm still mourning.

 **Firetemplar415** – Hahaha no, anything but holy water! Glad you caught some feels. Lol:)

 **PopularCats** – Thanks for reading and leaving so many great reviews!

 **Elphaba8387** – I love that you noticed I stopped capitalizing "He/Him" for the Dark Lord once he'd been defeated. I wanted it to seem like he was like a god to them before and finally lost his power. Thanks!

Also, a huge thanks to everyone who read and reviewed Wanting Narcissa at any point, as your reviews kept me going (and I hope you'll be compelled to continue through to the end). This includes all of the following:

 **EvilRegalOncer12, PureBlood Vampira, Half-as-Beautiful, Batman is Kawaii, Annika, trickster32, Pink Cashmere, lala1224, ADesperateReader, Sunshine490, bigred20, Readdicted, vani12, malfoy-mcgonagall, Ainat00, shira, Stefangelina, Slughorn, Yunpgasibitch, Anotherdarkshado, Prettylillpsycho, hendo2207, thenuminous, Bla gojevich, Hello,** **palerebelforever**


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